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NOBLE    DAMES    AND    NOTABLE 
MEN    OF  THE   GEORGIAN    ERA 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND 
NOTABLE  MEN  OF 
THE  GEORGIAN  ERA 

BY 

JOHN    FYVIE 

AUTHOR  OF  "some   FAMOUS  WOMEN   OF  WIT   AND    BEAUTY. 
"comedy    queens    of    the     GEORGIAN     ERA,"    ETC.,    ETC. 


NEW  YORK 

JOHN    LANE   COMPANY 

MCMXI 


PREFACE 

The  reader  will  be  in  little  danger  of  supposing  me  to 
imply  that  the  Georgian  era  did  not  produce  nobler  dames 
and  more  notable  men  than  any  I  have  included  in  the 
present  volume.  Nevertheless,  it  may  perhaps  be  advisable 
for  me  to  point  out  that  the  subjects  of  the  six  character 
sketches  here  brought  together  have  been  selected  because, 
in  addition  to  the  interest  of  their  several  life  histories,  they 
all  exhibit  some  peculiarity,  or  quaintness,  or  eccentricity,  of 
mind  and  behaviour,  such  as  would  have  caused  our  forebears 
to  dub  them  emphatically  "  characters." 

So  far  as  was  possible,  I  have  let  Horace  Walpole  tell  the 
story  of  Lady  Mary  Coke,  supplementing  him,  where  neces- 
sary, from  other  sources,  and  especially  from  Lady  Louisa 
Stuart's  brief  but  brilliant  sketch  of  the  family  of  John,  Duke 
of  Argyll  and  Greenwich,  which  was  prefixed  to  the  portion 
of  Lady  Mary's  "Journal"  privately  printed  for  Lord  Home 
in  1889.  It  was  not  permissible  for  me  to  quote  (as  I  should 
have  been  very  glad  to  do  pretty  extensively)  from  Lady 
Louisa's  delightful  little  memoir ;  but  I  am  especially  fortu- 
nate in  being  able  to  enrich  and  enliven  my  narrative  by  the 
inclusion  of  eighteen  scarcely  known  letters  of  Horace 
Walpole.  When  Cunningham  issued  his  great  edition  of 
Walpole's  "  Letters,"  and  for  a  good  many  years  after- 
wards, it  was  thought  that  only  one  letter  of  his  to  Lady 
Mary  Coke  had  survived ;  but  some  eighteen  or  twenty 
years  ago  a  packet  was  found  amongst  the  papers  of  the  late 
Mr.  Drummond-Moray  which  contained  no  less  than  twenty- 
six  hitherto  unknown  letters  from  Walpole  to  the  lady,  of 
various  dates  ranging  from  1759  to  1772.  These  letters  were 
included  in  the  third  volume  of  Lady  Mary's  "  Journal,  " 
which  was  privately  printed  in  1892.  I  have  to  express  my 
most  cordial  thanks  to  Colonel  Home  Drummond-Moray  for 


PREFACE 

permitting  me  to  use  these  letters,  and  also  to  Lord  Home  for 
allowing  me  to  copy  them  from  his  privately  printed  book. 
Whether  or  not  it  be  true  that  people's  characters  may  be 
always  as  well  known  by  the  letters  addressed  to  them  as  by 
those  of  their  own  composition,  it  is  certainly  the  fact  that 
these  letters  to  Lady  Mary  Coke  contain  not  a  few  indications 
of  the  character  of  the  recipient,  as  well  as  of  that  of  the 
writer ;  and  they  are  likewise  amongst  the  pleasantest  and 
wittiest  epistles  that  even  that  prince  of  letter-writers  ever 
penned. 

The  sketch  of  Lady  Holland  was  written  before  the 
appearance  of  the  selection  from  her  "Journal"  which  was 
published  under  the  editorship  of  Lord  Ilchester  in  1909. 
But  I  have  not  found  it  necessary  to  make  any  alteration, 
because,  as  Lord  Ilchester  says,  the  later  career  of  Lady 
Holland  does  not  come  within  the  scope  of  his  volumes, 
and  it  is  that  later  career  alone  with  which  I  have  attempted 
to  deal.  If  it  should  be  objected  that  Lady  Holland,  who 
died  as  recently  as  1845,  does  not  properly  come  within  the 
period  indicated  in  my  title,  I  would  reply  that  she  was  born 
in  the  loth  of  George  the  Third  ;  that  she  was,  both  literally 
and  metaphorically,  a  child  of  the  eighteenth  century ;  and, 
moreover,  that  the  period  which  we  refer  to  somewhat 
vaguely  as  "  the  Georgian  era,  "  or  "  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury," did  not,  as  Sir  Walter  Besant  first  pointed  out,  come 
to  an  end  on  December  31st,  1800,  or  even  on  the  day 
of  the  death  of  George  the  Fourth,  but  lasted  on,  in  all  its 
essential  characteristics,  at  least  until  about  the  time  of  the 
accession  of  Queen  Victoria. 

J.F. 


VI 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 
PREFACE  .........  V 

I.      A   GRANDE    DAME — LADY    MARY   COKE,    1726 181I  .  ,  3 

II.      A      JOURNALISTIC      PARSON — SIR      HENRY      BATE-DUDLEY, 

BART.,    1745 — 1824 79 

III.  A     HUNTED     HEIRESS — THE     COUNTESS     OF    STRATHMORE, 

1749 — 1800 107 

IV.  A     PROFESSIONAL     BEGGAR — BAMPFYLDE-MOORE      CAREW, 

1693— (?)  1758 147 

V,      A   UNIQUE     HOSTESS — ELIZABETH,     LADY    HOLLAND,    1770 

—1845 173 

VI.       A     METAPHYSICAL     HUMORIST — ABRAHAM    TUCKER,    1705 

—  1774-    • 203 


A    GRANDE   DAME— LADY  MARY   COKE 


N.D.  B 


A   GRANDE  DAME— "LADY   MARY   COKE 

HoLKHAM  Hall,  in  Norfolk,  is  one  of  tlie  stateliest  of 
the  stately  homes  of  England.  It  was  built  in  the  earlier 
half  of  the  eighteenth  century  by  Thomas  Coke,  Earl  of 
Leicester,  after  a  design  by  the  classic  Palladio.  In  order 
that  it  might  stand  as  a  monument  of  his  name  for  ever,  it 
was  constructed  of  specially  made  bricks  and  mortar,  care- 
fully fashioned  after  the  pattern  of  the  marvellously  durable 
bricks  and  mortar  of  the  ancient  Romans.  Its  casements  and 
window-sashes  were  of  burnished  gold.  Its  great  marble  and 
alabaster  hall  was  adorned  with  priceless  antique  statuary,  for 
which  his  agents  ransacked  Italy  and  Greece.  Its  spacious 
rooms  were  filled  with  costly  furniture  and  curios,  and  their 
walls  hung  with  beautiful  tapestries  and  with  pictures  by 
Titian,  and  Van  Dyk,  and  Paul  Veronese,  and  Holbein,  and 
other  old  masters.  For  the  last  five-and-twenty  years  of  his 
life  Lord  Leicester  devoted  himself  to  the  personal  super- 
intendence of  every  detail  of  the  building  and  adornment  of 
this  splendid  palace,  which  he  had  planned  to  be  the  envied 
habitation,  not  of  himself  only,  but  of  his  children's  children 
for  generation  after  generation.  But  the  fates  conspired 
against  the  realisation  of  his  dream.  Of  all  his  children  only 
one  survived  infancy,  and  that  one,  Edward,  Viscount  Coke, 
lived  such  a  life  of  drunken  riot  and  debauchery  that  his 
excesses  threatened  to  bring  him  to  an  early  grave.  After  he 
came  of  age  the  one  hope  of  his  anxious  parents  was  that  a 
suitable  marriage  might  regenerate  their  graceless  son,  or,  at 
the  least,  provide  an  heir  to  the  family  title  and  estates ;  and 
they  consequently  negotiated,  in  the  fashion  of  those  times, 

3  B  2 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

for  an  alliance  with  some  family  possessed  either  of  blue 
blood  or  of  money.  Notwithstanding  the  enormous  wealth 
to  which  he  was  heir,  it  was  apparently  the  money  that  was 
looked  out  for  first,  for,  as  Horace  Walpole  remarks,  it  was 
only  after  "  offering  him  to  all  the  great  lumps  of  gold  in  all 
the  alleys  of  the  City"  that  they  settled  upon  one  of  the 
daughters  of  the  Dowager  Duchess  of  Argyll,  a  young 
damsel  who  undoubtedly  had  the  bluest  of  blood  in  her 
veins,  but  whose  portion  was  only  a  paltry  £12,000.  Before 
saying  anything  further  about  this  lady  herself,  it  will 
be  worth  while  to  make  a  few  observations  concerning  her 
parentage. 

In  17 1 2  John,  Duke  of  Argyll,  fresh  from  warlike  exploits 
on  the  Continent,  which  had  made  him  no  mean  rival  of  the 
great  Duke  of  Marlborough,  made  his  appearance  at  the 
Court  of  Queen  Anne,  was  invested  with  the  Order  of  the 
Garter,  and  became,  of  course,  the  popular  hero  of  the  day. 
He  was  then  thirty-four  years  of  age,  and  not  only  a  soldier 
of  great  reputation,  but  as  handsome,  graceful,  and  engaging 
a  personality  as  the  Court  had  ever  seen.  It  may  not,  there- 
fore, seem  a  very  extraordinary  thing  that,  when  the  ladies' 
toasts  were  called  for  one  day  at  a  dinner  given  by  the  Lord 
Chamberlain  to  the  maids  of  honour,  one  of  those  maids, 
Jane  Warburton,  should  ingenuously  propose  the  name  of  the 
popular  hero  whose  figure  and  achievements  were  probably 
dominant  in  the  minds  of  all  of  them.  But  for  two  reasons 
this  apparently  simple  and  natural  manifestation  of  the 
general  feeling  aroused  a  storm  of  satirical  and  hilarious 
comment.  In  the  first  place,  it  was  most  unusual  for  a  young 
lady,  when  called  upon  for  a  toast,  to  propose  any  name  but 
that  of  some  discreet  bishop,  or  statesman,  or  courtier  who 
was  old  enough  to  be  her  father ;  and,  in  the  second  place, 
the  particular  young  lady  who  had  committed  this  breach  of 
maidenly  etiquette  was  so  devoid  of  personal  charms  and  so 
rustic  in  her  speech  and  manners  that  nobody  had  ever  been 
able  to  make  out  how  so  unlikely  a  creature  had  obtained 

4 


A   GRANDE   DAME—hAX^Y   MARY   COKE 

an  appointment  in  the  Court.  She  was  the  daughter  of  a 
Cheshire  squire  of  good  family,  but  her  education  and  speech 
were  those  of  a  dairymaid,  and  had  all  along  been  made  a 
standing  jest  by  her  companions  in  office.  When  she  pro- 
posed her  toast,  therefore,  there  was  a  general  shout  of 
laughter,  and  she  had  to  endure  the  raillery  of  the  whole 
company  on  the  modest  humility  of  her  choice,  some  sug- 
gesting that  the  Duke  ought  to  be  informed  of  the  wonderful 
conquest  he  had  made,  and  keeping  up  their  battery  with  such 
effect  that  poor  Jane  could  bear  it  no  longer,  and  burst  into 
a  passion  of  tears.  That  night  the  Duke  of  Shrewsbury, 
happening  to  stand  next  to  the  Duke  of  Argyll  at  a  ball, 
related  this  story  as  a  good  joke,  when,  to  his  and  everybody 
else's  extreme  surprise,  the  gallant  Argyll  immediately  asked 
to  be  introduced  to  the  young  lady,  in  order  that  by  chatting 
with  her  for  a  few  moments  he  might  make  some  amends 
for  the  discomfort  to  which  she  had  been  subjected  on  his 
account.  And,  to  the  still  further  surprise  of  everybody, 
he  not  only  devoted  himself  to  Jane  Warburton  for  the 
remainder  of  that  evening,  but  afterwards  visited  her  con- 
stantly, and  made  it  perfectly  plain  that  he  was  over  head 
and  ears  in  love  with  her.  Unfortunately,  the  Duke  had  a 
wife  already,  having  been  married  at  the  early  age  of  twenty- 
one  to  Mary  Brown,  daughter  of  a  rich  citizen,  and  niece  of 
Sir  Charles  Duncombe,  Lord  Mayor  of  London.  He  had 
very  soon  discovered  that  he  cordially  detested  the  lady,  and 
they  had  been  promptly  separated.  Since  then  his  expe- 
rience of  women  had  been  limited  to  specimens  of  that  class 
which  follows  a  camp,  and  he  had  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  every  woman  had  her  price.  When,  therefore,  he  found 
that  Jane  Warburton  was  not  to  be  tempted  from  the  path 
of  rectitude  by  presents  or  promises,  however  magnificent 
these  might  be,  he  was  greatly  astonished,  and  he  came  to 
the  further  conclusion  that  it  had  been  his  good  fortune  to 
become  acquainted  with  a  solitary  exception  to  the  foregoing 
principle,  or,  in  other  words,  with  the  only  virtuous  woman 

5 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

in  the  world.  For  about  four  years  he  was  a  visitor  to  her 
room  every  morning ;  and  it  is  a  remarkable  circumstance 
that,  compromising  as  the  situation  was,  Jane  Warburton's 
character  was  considered  by  the  whole  Court  to  remain  alto- 
gether unimpeachable. 

When  Queen  Anne  died  in  1714,  Jane  would  probably 
have  been  dismissed  to  her  home  with  a  small  pension  but 
for  the  fact  that  the  Whig  leaders,  who  then  came  into  office, 
wished  to  make  sure  of  the  continued  adhesion  of  the  power- 
ful Duke  of  Argyll,  and  considered  that  one  of  the  best  ways 
of  doing  so  was  to  keep  his  lady  love  at  Court.  They  conse- 
quently made  her  one  of  the  maids  of  honour  to  the  new 
Princess  of  Wales.  But  about  two  years  after  the  death  of 
Queen  Anne  the  Duke's  wife  died ;  and  the  ladies  of  the 
Court  immediately  began  to  speculate  how  long  it  would  be 
before  he  would  find  it  necessary  to  drop  the  poor  maid  of 
honour  and  ally  himself  with  some  lady  of  suitable  rank 
in  order  to  provide  an  heir  for  his  titles  and  estates.  Once 
more  they  were  very  greatly  surprised,  for,  after  a  very  short 
period  of  perfunctory  mourning,  Jane  Warburton  was  duly 
made  Duchess  of  Argyll.  Lady  Louisa  Stuart  says  that, 
although  everybody  else  agreed  in  calling  Jane  extremely 
plain,  the  Duke  believed  her  to  be  an  incomparable  beauty ; 
and  it  is  certainly  remarkable  that,  notwithstanding  the  very 
great  disappointment  it  must  have  been  to  him  to  have  no 
son  and  heir,  but  only  daughters,  whom  he  contemptuously 
regarded  as  "  useless  encumbrances,"  he  remained  a  faithful 
and  "  doating  "  husband  to  the  end  of  his  life. 

Of  course  the  Duke,  Pope's 

"  Argyll,  the  State's  whole  thunder,  born  to  wield 
And  shake  alike  the  senate  and  the  field," 

who  was  a  distinguished  statesman  as  well  as  a  distinguished 
general,  who  was  possessed  of  large  information  and  gifted 
with  great  conversational  powers,  would  have  been  glad  to 
have  about  him  in  his  own  home  many  of  the  intellectual  and 

6 


A  GRANDE   DAME— LADY   MARY  COKE 

eminent  men  with  whom  he  was  inevitably  associated  in  public 
affairs.  But  poor  Duchess  Jane  had  a  horror  of  '*  clever  " 
people,  and  managed  to  keep  all  such  out  of  her  intimate 
circle.  With  all  his  affection  for  her,  the  Duke  would  never 
have  dreamt  of  asking  her  opinion  or  advice  on  any  matter 
which  he  considered  to  be  of  real  importance  ;  but  in  all 
matters  of  social  and  family  life  he  let  her  have  her  own 
way  altogether.  Unfortunately  he  considered  the  education 
of  a  parcel  of  useless  girls  a  matter  of  no  importance ;  and 
consequently  the  tuition  of  his  four  daughters  was  left  entirely 
to  the  discretion  of  Duchess  Jane,  who  neither  sent  them 
to  school  nor  provided  proper  tutors  for  them,  being  quite 
satisfied  if  they  were  taught  the  elements  of  reading,  writing, 
and  arithmetic  by  her  steward,  and  needlework  by  her  house- 
keeper. One  stipulation,  indeed,  the  Duke  did  make :  he 
objected  to  their  being  taught  French  in  addition  to  their 
mother-tongue,  because,  as  he  contemptuously  observed,  one 
language  was  quite  enough  for  any  woman  to  talk  in ;  and,  as 
Duchess  Jane  knew  no  word  of  any  language  save  her  own, 
she  probably  considered  this  as  only  another  instance  of  her 
lord's  superior  wisdom.  They  were  none  of  them  deficient 
in  good  looks;  but  they  all  of  them  inherited  from  their 
mother  a  harsh  and  discordant  voice,  so  that  they  came  to 
be  called  "the  screaming '  sisterhood "  and  "the  bawling 
Campbells,"  while  their  want  of  proper  training  caused  them 
to  become,  as  Lady  Louisa  Stuart  declares,  "  the  most  noisy, 
hoydening  girls  in  London."  But  the  Duke  not  only  left 
undone  those  things  which  he  ought  to  have  done ;  he  also 
did  those  things  which  he  ought  not  to  have  done ;  for  the 
ungovernable  violence  of  the  temper  of  his  youngest  daughter, 
Mary,  was  largely  due  to  his  injudicious  habit  of  alternately 
teasing  and  indulging  her.  After  he  had  purposely  irritated 
the  little  minx  into  a  fury  he  would  cry,  "  Look  !  look  at 
Mary  !  "  and  laugh  heartily  to  see  her  flying  about,  screaming 
and  scratching  like  a  wild  cat,  and  then,  when  he  had  had 
enough  of  the  scene,  would  coax  her  with  sugar-plums  to 

7 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

kiss  and  be  friends  again.  Of  course  it  was  inevitable  that 
such  unwise  treatment  should  produce  after-effects  of  a  very- 
pronounced  character.  But,  in  addition  to  a  peculiarly 
violent  temper,  Lady  Mary  exhibited  as  she  grew  up  very 
exalted  notions  of  her  own  importance,  together  with  a 
morbid,  dominant  idea  that  nothing  which  happened  to 
her  was  quite  the  same  as  what  occurred  to  mere  ordinary 
commonplace  people.  Not  merely  was  she  so  hypersensi- 
tive that  if  she  simply  pricked  her  finger  the  pain  was  almost 
too  exquisite  for  words,  but  if  she  caught  cold,  or  had  a 
sore  throat,  it  was  impossible  that  this  could  be  a  mere 
common  ailment,  it  must  be  a  disease  of  extraordinary 
malignity  ;  or,  if  she  happened  to  be  caught  in  a  shower, 
it  was  no  ordinary  shower,  but  such  a  rain  as  had  never 
fallen  from  heaven  since  the  Deluge.  She  was  also 
possessed  by  the  notion  that  she  was  destined  to  occupy 
some  particularly  high  and  conspicuous  position  in  the 
world.  It  might  have  been  thought  that  she  had  nourished 
her  mind  on  the  extravagant  romances  of  Calprenede  and 
Madame  Scuderi  ;  but  we  are  told  that  she  had  little  liking 
for  imaginative  literature  of  any  kind,  though  she  had  a  turn 
for  reading  and  was  much  given  to  the  perusal  of  histories, 
and  genealogies,  and  State  papers.  And,  says  Lady  Louisa 
Stuart,  she  had  "  heated  her  brains  with  history  as  others 
have  done  with  romances,"  with  the  result  that,  wishing  to 
make  herself  comparable  with  some  of  the  heroines  of  whom 
she  had  read,  she  was  reduced  to  magnifying  every  common 
matter  that  concerned  herself  into  the  semblance  of  some- 
thing uncommon.  Her  personal  appearance  was  certainly 
very  uncommon,  and,  in  the  opinion  of  many  people,  un- 
commonly beautiful.  She  possessed  a  majestic  figure,  a 
handsome  neck,  and  well-shaped  amrs,  together  with  a  fine 
set  of  teeth  and  a  very  agreeable  smile  ;  but  her  extremely 
fair  hair,  dead  whiteness  of  skin,  unshaded  eyebrows,  and 
fiercely  brilliant  eyes,  produced  altogether  so  feline  an 
expression  as  to  obtain  for  her  the  nickname  of  "  the  White 

8 


A  GRANDE   DAME— LADY   MARY  COKE 

Cat."  Such  was  the  young  damsel,  nineteen  years  of  age, 
and  with  a  portion  of  ^^12,000,  who  was  selected  by  Lord 
Leicester  to  carry  on  the  succession  in  his  family,  and  to  be 
the  regenerator  of  his  scapegrace  of  a  son. 

The  Duke  of  Argyll  had  died  in  1743,  and  the  overtures 
of  marriage  were  made  by  Lord  Coke's  parents  to  Duchess 
Jane,  through  the  instrumentality  of  Lady  Gower.  The 
Duchess  hesitated  at  first,  not  so  much  on  account  of  the 
character  and  habits  of  Lord  Coke  as  on  account  of  the 
temper  and  dissoluteness  of  his  father.  But  the  young  man 
contrived  to  make  a  very  good  impression  on  her,  and  she 
wrote  her  married  daughter,  Lady  Dalkeith,  saying  she 
thought  his  gambling  habits  were  due  to  his  father's  bad 
example  and  encouragement,  also  that  he  had  "  a  very  good 
understanding,  and  a  great  deal  of  knowledge,  and,  I  think, 
a  sweet  disposition."  Lady  Mary  merely  said  that  she  had 
no  objection ;  so  the  family  lawyers  on  both  sides  were  set  to 
work,  and  after  a  good  deal  of  bargaining  it  was  settled  that 
there  should  be  £500  a  year  pin-money  and  a  jointure  of 
£"2,500.  But  before  the  lawyers  had  time  to  draw  up  deeds 
to  this  effect  Lady  Mary  was  of  another  mind.  Horace 
Walpole,  writing  to  George  Montagu  on  July  3rd,  1746, 
apropos  of  certain  rumours  of  marriages,  remarks : — 

"  I  can  tell  you  another  wedding  more  certain  and  fifty  times  more 
extraordinary  ;  it  is  Lord  Coke  with  Lady  Mary  Campbell,  the  Dowager 
of  Argyll's  youngest  daughter.  It  is  all  agreed,  and  was  negotiated  by 
the  Countesses  of  Gower  and  Leicester.  I  don't  know  why  they  skipped 
over  Lady  Betty,  who,  if  there  were  any  question  of  beauty,  is,  I  think, 
as  well  as  her  sister.  They  drew  the  girl  in  to  give  her  consent  when 
they  first  proposed  it  to  her ;  but  now  la  belle  n'aiiite  pas  trop  le  Sieur 
Leandre.  She  cries  her  eyes  to  scarlet.  He  has  made  her  four  visits, 
and  is  so  in  love  that  he  writes  to  her  every  other  day.  'Tis  a  strange 
match.  .  .  .  She  objects  his  loving  none  of  her  sex  but  the  four  queens 
in  a  pack  of  cards ;  but  he  promises  to  abandon  White's  and  both  clubs 
for  her  sake." 

Lord  Coke  was  by  no  means  in  love,  as  Walpole  and  other 
gossips  were  led  to  suppose.     He  did  not  like  Lady  Mary 

9 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

any  more  than  she  hked  him ;  and  he  was  quite  as  proud 
and  as  self-willed  as  she  was.     But  while  she  treated  him 
with  flouts  and  jeers,  and,  like  a  heroine  of  one  of  the  old 
romances,  posed  as  a  miserable  matrimonial  martyr,  he  kept 
his  resentment  in  reserve,  bore  all  her  vagaries  with  a  smiling 
face,  and  by  his  respectful  attentions  and  moral  discourse 
confirmed  his  prospective  mother-in-law  in  her  opinion  of 
the  wonderful   "  sweetness "    of  his   disposition.      At   last, 
however,  in  the  spring  of  1747,  Lady  Mary  suffered  herself 
to  be  led  to  the  altar,  exhibiting  herself  as  a  reluctant  bride, 
who  was  yet  prepared  to  submit,  as  in  duty  bound,  to  the 
caresses  of  an  unloved  husband.     But  as  soon  as  the  young 
couple  reached  home  after  the  ceremony  Lord  Coke  threw 
off  his  mask,  and,  assuring  her  ladyship  that  she  need  be  in 
no  fear  of  caresses  from  him,  promptly  went  off  to  a  tavern 
to  carouse  with  his  boon  companions,  with  whom  he  staj'ed 
the   whole    night,   making    merry  over   his  insolent  bride's 
discomfiture.      During  the  courtship  his  conduct  had  been 
unwontedly  respectable,  but  now  he  plunged  headlong  into 
his  former  extravagant  dissipations ;    and  whenever  he  did 
happen  to  be  in  his  own  home  he  amused  himself  by  ridi- 
culing his  wife's  mother,  attacking  the  memory  of  her  father, 
and  generally  abusing  the  whole  clan  of  the  Campbells.     In 
August,  about  three  months  after  the  marriage,  it  was  arranged 
that   Coke  and  his  wife  should  spend  some  time  with  his 
parents  in  Norfolk ;  but  when  Lord  Leicester's  coach-and-six 
called  at  their  house  early  one  morning  to  take  them  to 
Holkham,  Lady  Mary,  who  was  dressed  and  ready  to  start, 
was  obliged  to  report  that  her  husband  had  not  yet  returned 
from  his  tavern.     When  Lord  Leicester  found  that  this  was 
a  constant   practice,   he  was  furious,  warmly  espoused  his 
daughter-in-law's   side,  and   declaimed   in    good   set    terms 
against   the   brutishness   of  his  son.     Walpole,   writing  to 
Mann  on  January  12th,  1748,  says: — 

"  Lord  Coke  has  demolished  himself  very  fast ;  I  mean  his  character. 
You  know  he  was  married  but  last  spring.    He  is  always  drunk,  has  lost 

10 


A  GRANDE  DAME— LADY   MARY  COKE 

immense  sums  at  play,  and  seldom  goes  home  to  his  wife  till  eight  in 
the  morning.  The  world  is  vehement  on  her  side  ;  and  not  only  her 
family,  bat  his  own,  give  him  up.  At  present  matters  are  patching  up  by 
the  mediation  of  my  brother,  but,  I  think,  can  never  go  on.  She  married 
him  extremely  against  her  will,  and  he  is  at  least  an  out-pensioner  of 
Bedlam  ;  his  mother's  family  have  many  of  them  been  mad." 

A  fortnight  later,  Lady  Hervey  wrote  saying  that  things 
were  patched  up  for  the  present,  though,  in  her  opinion, 
when  they  required  so  much  darning  things  seldom  lasted 
long.  However,  Lord  Coke  professed  to  have  mended  his 
ways,  and  sued  for  a  reconciliation,  whereupon  his  father 
once  more  settled  his  very  considerable  gambling  debts,  and 
expected  to  find  the  young  couple  disposed  to  make  mutual 
concessions  and  to  live  with  one  another  at  least  in  outward 
decency,  if  not  in  the  most  perfect  private  harmony.  But, 
to  his  extreme  dismay.  Lady  Mary  now  firmly  refused  to  have 
anything  to  do  with  such  a  husband;  and  Lord  Leicester, 
whose  one  anxiety  was  that  his  only  son  should  have  an  heir  to 
carry  on  the  succession,  became  as  furious  against  her  as  he 
had  been  previously  enthusiastic  in  her  support.  The 
Duchess  of  Argyll  interfered,  and  only  made  matters  worse. 
Then  the  Duke  of  Argyll,  Lady  Mary's  uncle,  intervened, 
and  proposed  an  amicable  separation ;  but  this  was  the  very 
last  thing  the  Leicester  family  were  disposed  to  listen  to. 
About  the  end  of  June,  Horace  Walpole,  after  remarking  to 
Conway  that  the  first  article  in  everybody's  gazette  of  gossip 
must  be  my  Lord  Coke,  goes  on  to  say  : — 

"  They  say  that  since  he  has  been  at  Sunning  Hill  with  Lady  Mary 
she  has  made  him  a  declaration  in  form  that  she  hates  him,  that  she 
always  did,  and  that  she  always  will.  This  seems  to  have  been  a  very 
unnecessary  notification.  However,  as  you  know  his  part  is  to  be 
extremely  in  love,  he  is  very  miserable  upon  it ;  and  relating  his  woes 
at  White's,  probably  at  seven  in  the  morning,  he  was  advised  to  put 
an  end  to  all  this  history  and  shoot  himself — an  advice  they  would 
not  have  given  him  if  he  were  not  insolvent.  He  has  promised  to 
consider  of  it," 

It  was  just  about  this  time  that  Henry  Bellenden,  brother 

of  the  celebrated  beauty  Mary  Bellenden,  maid  of  honour  to 

II 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

the  Princess  of  Wales,  fought  a  duel  with  Lord  Coke  in 
Marylebone  Fields  in  consequence  of  a  quarrel  arising  out  of 
remarks  or  remonstrances  concerning  Coke's  treatment  of 
his  wife.  They  both  missed  fire,  and  their  seconds  parted 
them  without  either  being  hurt.  But  certain  very  ugly 
reports  of  this  affair  became  current,  as  will  be  seen  from  the 
following  letter  of  Horace  Walpole  to  George  Montagu, 
which  is  dated  July  14th,  1748  : — 

"  I  heard  the  history  of  Lord  Coke  three  thousand  ways.  I  expect 
next  winter  to  hear  of  no  Whigs  and  Jacobites,  no  courtiers  and 
patriots,  but  of  the  Cokes  and  the  Campbells.  I  do  assure  you 
the  violence  is  incredible  with  which  this  affair  is  talked  over.  As  the 
Irish  mobs  used  to  say  '  Butleraboo '  and  '  Crumaboo,'  you  will  see  the 
women  in  the  assemblies  will  be  bellowing  '  Campbellaboo  1 '  But,  with 
the  leave  of  your  violence,  I  think  the  whole  affair  of  sending  Harry 
Bellenden  first  to  bully  Coke  and  then  to  murder  him  is  a  very  shocking 
story,  and  so  bad  that  I  will  not  believe  Lady  Mary's  family  could  go 
so  far  as  to  let  her  into  the  secret  of  an  intention  to  pistol  her  husband. 
I  heard  the  relation  in  an  admirable  way  first  from  my  Lady  Suffolk, 
who  is  one  of  the  ringleaders  of  the  '  Campbellaboos,'  and,  indeed,  a 
woeful  story  she  made  of  it  for  poor  Coke,  interlarding  it  every  minute 
with  very  villainous  epithets  bestowed  on  his  lordship  by  Noel  Bluff, 
and  when  she  had  run  over  her  string  of  'rascal,'  'scoundrel,'  etc.,  she 
would  stop  and  say,  '  Lady  Dorothy,  do  I  tell  your  story  right  ?  for  you 
know  I  am  very  deaf,  and  perhaps  did  not  hear  it  exactly.' 

"  I  have  compiled  all  that  is  allowed  on  both  sides,  and  it  is  very 
certain,  for  Coke's  honour,  that  his  refusing  to  fight  was  till  he  could 
settle  the  affair  of  his  debts.  But  two  or  three  wicked  circumstances 
on  t'other  side,  never  to  be  got  over,  are  Bellenden's  stepping  close  up 
to  him  after  Coke  had  fired  his  last  pistol  and  saying,  '  You  little  dog, 
now  I  will  be  the  death  of  you,'  and  firing,  but  the  pistol  missed ;  and 
what  confirms  the  intention  of  these  words  is  its  having  come  out  that 
the  Duke  of  Argyll  knew  that  Coke,  on  having  been  told  that  his  Grace 
had  complained  of  his  usage  of  Lady  Mary,  replied,  '  Very  well  I  Does 
he  talk  ?  Why,  it  is  impossible  I  should  use  my  wife  worse  than  he 
did  his.'  When  Harry  Bellenden  left  Coke  on  the  road  from  Sunning, 
the  day  before  the  duel,  he  crossed  over  to  the  Duke,  which  his  Grace 
flatly  denied,  but  Lord  Gower  proved  it  to  his  face.  I  have  no  doubt 
but  a  man  who  would  despatch  his  wife  would  have  no  scruple  at  the 
assassination  of  a  person  that  should  reproach  him  with  it." 

After  this  affair   Coke  carried  off  his  wife  to  Holkham, 

thinking  that  there  he  and  his  father  would  be  better  able  to 

12 


A  GRANDE   DAME— LADY   MARY  COKE 

break  down  her  determination.  But  she  kept  to  her  own 
apartment,  assumed  the  dress  and  demeanour  of  an  invalid, 
and  refused  to  associate  with  any  of  the  family.  They 
retaliated,  not  only  by  being  rude  to  her  themselves,  but  by 
encouraging  the  servants  to  be  rude  also  ;  and  the  Leicester 
flunkeys,  taking  full  advantage  of  so  congenial  a  permission, 
jeered  at  her  as  "  our  Virgin  Mary."  In  March,  1749,  Lord 
Coke  left  Holkham  for  the  society  of  his  old  boon  companions 
elsewhere,  leaving  his  father  a  power  of  attorney  to  deal  with 
Lady  Mary  according  to  the  strict  letter  of  the  law.  Lord 
Leicester  accordingly,  having  taken  legal  advice  how  far  he 
might  go  in  the  restraint  of  a  wife  who  was,  as  he  phrased  it, 
"  acting  contrary  to  the  laws  of  God  and  man,"  dismissed 
Lady  Mary's  maid,  took  possession  of  her  letters  and  papers 
and  kept  her  under  lock  and  key  for  five  or  six  months. 
Notwithstanding  this  imprisonment,  she  contrived  by 
bribery  or  otherwise  to  correspond  with  some  of  her 
relations  ;  and  Mr.  Mackenzie,  who  had  lately  married  her 
sister  Betty,  espoused  her  cause,  and  tried  all  he  knew  to 
obtain  her  release.  Fortunately  for  her,  Lord  Leicester,  in 
spite  of  his  care  to  have  legal  advice  as  to  his  powers, 
unwittingly  overstepped  the  mark,  for  when  the  Duchess  of 
Argyll,  attended  by  Mr.  Mackenzie  and  a  solicitor,  came  to 
Holkham  and  demanded  to  see  her  daughter,  he  refused  her 
admittance.  Consequently  they  at  once  obtained  a  writ  of 
habeas  corpus,  and  Lord  Coke  was  enjoined  to  produce  his 
wife  in  the  Court  of  King's  Bench  on  the  first  day  of  term  in 
November.  Of  course  the  court  was  crowded.  Duchess 
Jane  and  her  daughters  brought  as  many  ladies  as  possible 
to  give  Lady  Mary  countenance,  and  Lord  Leicester  and  his 
son  beat  up  all  the  lively,  idle  young  bloods  about  town  to 
support  them.  When  Lady  Mary  arrived,  the  mob,  in  their 
eagerness  to  get  a  glimpse  of  her,  broke  the  window  of 
her  sedan  chair,  whereupon  the  hypocritical  Coke  sprang 
forward  to  hand  her  out,  exclaiming  as  he  did  so,  loud  enough 
for  the   whole  crowd  to  hear,  "  My  dearest   love  !     Take 

13 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

care  you  don't  hurt  yourself."     Mrs.  Delany,  writing  to  Mrs. 
Dewes  on  November  20th,  says  : — 

"All  the  talk  at  present  is  about  Lady  Mary  Cook"  (sic)  "and  her 
strange  lord.  She  has  been  cruelly  treated  by  him  and  his  father, 
who  perhaps  will  see  what  I  write  of  him,  for  he  examines  all  letters 
that  pass.  He  will  reap  but  little  satisfaction  from  that  employment, 
and,  like  listeners,  hear  no  good  of  himself.  There  was  a  great 
meeting  at  Westminster  Hall  last  Friday,  where  she  was  produced  in 
court,  led  in  by  my  Lord  Cook  {sic).  She  petitioned  for  leave  to  see  her 
relations,  lawyers,  and  physicians,  which  was  granted.  What  next  will 
be  done  nobody  knows,  but  a  modest  woman  is  much  to  be  pitied  who 
undergoes  what  she  must  do  if  a  trial  comes  on." 

A  trial  did  come  on  in  due  course,  when  Lady  Mary  sued 
for  a  divorce  on  the  usual  grounds.  She  appeared  in  court, 
says  Lady  Louisa  Stuart,  dressed  in  rags  and  tatters,  alleging 
that  she  was  allowed  nothing  better.  Her  husband  declared, 
on  the  other  hand,  that,  as  her  pin-money  had  never  been 
withheld,  she  might  have  bought  herself  anything  she 
pleased.  She  alleged  that  she  was  kept  in  a  garret  two 
storeys  high,  they  that  she  refused  to  inhabit  any  other 
room  in  the  house.  She  lost  her  case,  however,  by  failing  to 
prove  particular  instances  of  cruelty.  She  seemed  to  think 
it  quite  sufficient  to  declare  that  in  every  respect  her  usage 
had  been  barbarous,  and  that  her  husband  had  practised 
**  a  thousand  "  acts  of  cruelty  every  day.  Consequently  she 
had  to  remain  in  the  custody  of  her  husband,  although,  by 
order  of  the  court,  her  relations,  and  lawyers,  and  a 
physician  were  permitted  to  visit  her.  On  December  loth 
Mrs.  Delany  reports  : — 

"Lady  Mary  Cook  "  (sic)  "is  so  ill  that  it  is  thought  she  can't  live  ;  she 
is  confined  to  a  very  dismal,  ill-furnished  room,  up  two  pair  of  stairs. 
I  have  not  yet  met  one  man  who  does  not  pity  her  and  detest  her 
tyrant.  ...  If  she  dies,  she  has  been  as  much  murdered  by  the  severe 
usage  she  has  met  with  as  if  she  had  been  poisoned." 

On  January  31st  following,  Walpole  wrote  Mann  that 
Lord  Coke  also  had  been  reported  to  be  dying,  and  that 
Lady   Mary  had    recovered  wonderfully   on  receipt  of  the 

14 


A   GRANDE  DAME— 'LADY   MARY   COKE 

news.  After  this  Lord  Hartington,  a  friend  of  both  families, 
came  in  as  mediator,  and  by  his  means  an  arrangement  was 
effected  whereby  she  was  to  be  allowed  to  live  at  Sudbrook 
with  her  mother,  unmolested,  and  to  have  her  pin-money 
(j^500  a  year)  for  maintenance,  on  condition  that  she  aban- 
doned all  legal  proceedings  and  promised  never  to  set  foot 
in  London  during  her  husband's  lifetime.  This  enforced 
retirement  did  not  last  very  long,  for  Lord  Coke  continued  his 
career  of  riotous  dissipation  at  such  a  pace  that  about  three 
years  after  the  separation  he  brought  his  worthless  life  to 
an  end,  at  the  age  of  thirty-four.  Old  Lord  Leicester,  not- 
withstanding the  frustration  of  all  his  dearest  hopes,  went 
doggedly  on  with  the  beautification  of  his  princely  palace, 
which,  however,  he  was  destined  never  to  finish,  for,  six  years 
after  the  death  of  his  only  son,  death  came  to  him  also, 
when  all  his  titles  became  extinct,  and  Holkham  Hall  passed 
to  another  branch  of  the  family. 

Lady  Mary  wore  mourning,  and  abstained  from  all  public 
amusements,  for  the  conventional  period,  and  then,  as  a 
handsome  young  widow  of  twenty-seven  who  was  possessed 
of  £2,500  a  year  might  have  been  expected  to  do,  she 
reappeared  in  society,  and  proposed  to  have  a  good  time  of  it. 
It  is  by  no  means  surprising  that  Lady  Mary's  friends  should 
have  contemplated  a  second  marriage  for  her ;  but  it  seems 
almost  beyond  the  bounds  of  credibility  that  in  1756  she 
became  betrothed  to  Lord  March,  afterwards  so  well  known 
to  fame  as  the  "wicked  old  Q."  Horace  Walpole  makes  no 
reference  to  any  such  affair,  and  numerous  entries  in  Lady 
Mary's  journal  for  years  afterwards,  in  which  Lord  March  is 
spoken  of,  give  no  indication  that  he  had  ever  been  on  terms 
of  any  particular  intimacy  with  her.  Lady  Louisa  Stuart, 
however,  is  most  circumstantial  in  her  details,  and  the  story 
as  she  tells  it  is,  briefly,  as  follows.  Lord  March,  who  was 
Lady  Mary's  senior  by  two  years,  was  the  prince  of  gamblers 
and  racing  men,  and  one  of  the  most  dissolute  fine  gentlemen 
in  London ;  but  he  was  the  acknowledged  leader  of  fashion, 

15 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

and,  as  heir  to  the  dukedom  of  Queensberry,  he  was,  of 
course,  one  of  the  greatest  prizes  in  the  matrimonial  market. 
He  was  most  emphatically  not  a  marrying  man,  and  every- 
body knew  it.  Consequently  the  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Queens- 
berry,  who,  after  the  death  of  their  children,  lived  a  very 
retired  life  at  Amesbury,  in  Wiltshire,  were  greatly  surprised 
to  receive  a  letter  from  Lady  Mary  informing  them  that 
Lord  March  had  proposed  to  her,  but  that  she  would  defer 
giving  him  a  favourable  answer  until  she  was  sure  of  their 
concurrence.  They  were  as  delighted  as  they  were  surprised, 
for,  being  most  anxious  that  March  should  abandon  his  wild 
life  and  settle  down,  they  were  ready  to  receive  with  open 
arms  any  lady  whose  birth  and  position  made  her  a  credit- 
able match.  They  promptly  came  to  London,  ready  to  do 
everything  in  their  power  to  hurry  on  the  marriage,  when 
they  found,  to  their  great  astonishment,  that  March  and  Lady 
Mary  were  not  even  upon  speaking  terms.  He  studiously 
ignored  her  presence  when  they  met  in  society,  spoke  of  her 
to  others  in  highly  disparaging  fashion,  and  made  a  point  of 
appearing  in  the  Park  or  at  Ranelagh,  whether  Lady  Mary 
were  there  or  not,  in  company  with  Madame  Rena,  a  dis- 
reputable opera-singer,  who  ostentatiously  took  the  head  of 
his  table,  and  was  known  to  everybody  as  his  acknowledged 
mistress.  When  the  Duchess  of  Queensberry  ventured  to  ask 
him  whether  this  conduct  was  quite  fair  to  Lady  Mary,  he 
coolly  inquired,  in  apparent  astonishment,  what  Lady  Mary 
had  to  do  with  the  matter ;  and  when  the  puzzled  Duchess 
went  on  to  ask  whether  he  did  not  mean  to  marry  Lady 
Mary  after  all,  he  replied,  "Oh  no.  He  was  quite 
ready  at  any  time,  if  her  ladyship  chose.'^  Thus  baffled,  the 
bewildered  Duchess  turned  to  the  lady,  and  represented  to 
her  that,  as  she  would  evidently  have  little  more  chance  of 
happiness  with  March  than  with  her  former  husband,  it  would 
perhaps  be  wise  to  give  him  up ;  but  Lady  Mary  oracularly 
declared  that  Lord  March  had  not  given  her  any  cause  of 
offence,  and  that  she  could  not  doubt  his  honour,     AH  the 

i6 


A   GRANDE   DAME— 'LADY   MARY   COKE 

time,  however,  to  his  friends  on  the  racecourse  and  in  the 
clubs,  March  was  making  no  secret  about  what  had  happened. 
He  had  made  overtures  to  her,  he  cynically  admitted,  as  he 
had  done  over  and  over  again  to  other  good-looking  women, 
but  no  mention  of  marriage  had  ever  entered  his  head  or 
issued  from  his  lips.  Instead,  however,  of  rejecting  the  un- 
lawful proposals  he  had  made  to  her,  she  had  pretended  to 
understand  his  first  "civil"  speech  as  a  proposal  of  holy 
matrimony,  and  had  artfully  led  him  on  until  he  was  en- 
tangled in  what  everybody  looked  upon  as  a  betrothal.  This 
curious  state  of  affairs  appears  to  have  lasted  for  some  little 
time,  when,  finding  neglect,  and  studious  incivility,  and  the 
ostentatious  flaunting  of  a  disreputable  mistress  of  no  avail, 
March  adopted  other  measures  to  get  his  engagement  broken 
by  the  other  party.  What  he  did  we  are  not  told  ;  but  Lady 
Louisa  Stuart  says  his  conduct  was  such  when  he  called  one 
morning  that  Lady  Mary  gave  him  a  vigorous  box  on  the 
ear,  and  commanded  him  never  to  enter  her  doors  again.  Of 
course  this  was  just  what  he  wanted,  and  he  drove  straight 
off  to  Queensberry  House  to  communicate  the  news,  pre- 
tending that  his  heart  was  more  wounded  than  his  ear,  but 
at  the  same  time  taking  particular  care  to  make  it  unmis- 
takably clear  that  the  lady's  breaking  of  the  engagement 
must  necessarily  be  final. 

Two  years  later  there  were  rumours  of  another  marriage. 
Her  sister,  Lady  Betty  Mackenzie,  mentions  Lord  Weymouth 
and  also  another  peer  as  having  been  talked  about  as  likely 
husbands;  and  a  couple  of  letters  from  the  Duchess  of 
Hamilton  (Elizabeth  Gunning)  imply  that  a  certain  Prince 
San  Severino  had  proposed  and  been  rejected.  It  was  about 
the  same  time  apparently  that  Horace  Walpole  became  her 
declared  admirer.  Probably  he  became  more  or  less  friend^- 
with  her  soon  after  she  emerged  from  her  retirement,  for  in 
a  letter  of  May,  1755,  he  mentions  her  as  one  amongst  the 
"  Bedford  Court"  whom  he  entertained  at  a  great  breakfast 
at  Strawberry  Hill ;  and  in  July,  1757,  he  expresses  himself 

N.D.  17  C 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

as  "not  satisfied"  because  she  has  left  Sudbrook.  But 
writing  to  Mann  on  September  2nd,  1758,  he  goes  further 
and  describes  himself  as  in  love  with  "  the  youngest,  hand- 
somest, and  wittiest  widow  in  England  "  ;  and  from  that  date 
onward  not  only  is  she  continually  mentioned  in  letters  to 
other  correspondents,  but  for  a  period  of  fourteen  or  fifteen 
years  he  addressed  some  of  the  wittiest  and  friendliest  of  his 
incomparable  letters  to  herself.  Walpole  undoubtedly  liked 
her  very  much,  and  made  no  secret  of  his  admiration ;  but 
some  of  the  expressions  in  his  letters  must  not  be  taken  too 
literally,  for  there  seems  no  ground  whatever  for  supposing 
that  either  she  or  anybody  else  ever  supposed  that  he  had 
the  remotest  intention  of  asking  her  in  marriage.  It  was  the 
custom  of  that  day  for  a  man  to  address  a  lady,  whether 
young  or  old,  both  by  speech  and  by  letter,  in  the  language 
of  a  conventional  gallantry.  Walpole  himself  supplies  us,  in 
one  of  his  letters  to  Conway,  with  an  indication  both  of  the 
unreality  of  the  sentiments  thus  usually  expressed,  and  of 
the  offence  which  was  likely  to  be  given  by  any  inadvertent 
lapse  from  the  expected  standard.  Owing  to  the  great  dearth 
of  candidates  to  be  found  in  London  in  the  autumn  of  1759, 
he  says,  Lady  Mary  Coke  permitted  Count  Haslang,  the 
Bavarian  Ambassador,  to  "die  for  her."  One  day,  when  on 
a  visit  to  the  Holdernesses  at  Sion,  these  two  were  talking 
together  in  a  bow  window,  when,  on  a  sudden  alarm  being 
given  that  dinner  was  on  the  table,  Haslang  expressed  great 
joy  and  appetite.  "  You  can't  imagine,"  adds  Walpole,  "  how 
she  was  offended."  The  courtly  Horace  himself  was  never 
guilty  of  a  similar  lapse ;  and  when,  a  few  months  after  this, 
Prince  Edward,  afterwards  Duke  of  York,  asked  him  jest- 
ingly at  the  opera  one  night  when  he  was  to  marry  Lady 
Mary  Coke,  instead  of  repudiating  any  such  intention,  he 
promptly  replied — the  military  fever  being  then  at  its  full 
height — "  As  soon  as  I  get  a  regiment."  Nor  was  he  con- 
tent to  let  the  matter  rest  at  this :  the  incident  had  to  be 
reported  to  several  correspondents  and  also  to  be  amplified 

18 


A  GRANDE   DAME— LADY   MARY  COKE 

and   enlarged  upon,  in  the  following   fashion,  to  the  lady 

herself: — 

*'  Arlington  Street, 

"  December  zytJi,  1759. 
"  Madam, — Y'  Ladyship  will  see  by  what  follows  that  I  am  impatient 
to  advance  the  term  prescribed  for  my  happiness.  Intending,  like  a 
true  Knight,  to  deserve  you  by  my  valour,  I  am  going  to  take  a  step 
worthy  of  one  who  pretends  to  the  honour  of  your  hand.  Perhaps, 
indeed,  it  is  not  perfectly  agreeable  to  the  rules  of  chivalry  to  avow 
any  reason  but  the  true  one  for  devoting  myself  to  arms;  but  as  I 
cannot  expect  a  regiment  but  by  flattering  a  Minister  in  his  own  way, 
I  am  forced  to  ascribe  to  the  Love  of  my  country  what  your  Ladyship 
knows  to  proceed  from  nothing  but  my  Passion.  Mr.  Pitt  is  so  weak 
as  to  prefer  the  honour  of  England  even  to  your  charms.  If  by 
humouring  him  I  can  possess  them,  a  little  insincerity  may  be  pardoned 
in  a  Lover.  You  must  impute  to  the  same  cause.  Madam,  my  speaking 
with  any  disesteem  of  sinecures — a  thing  which,  tho'  I  possess,  I  should 
certainly  disdain  if  it  was  not  with  a  view  to  those  beautiful  children 
with  which  I  flatter  myself  I  shall  be  blessed.  In  short.  Madam,  here 
follows  my  petition.  If  you  approve,  I  will  send  it ;  if  it  is  not  worthy 
the  cause  in  which  it  is  written,  be  so  good  as  to  fling  it  into  the  fire, 
&  I  will  think  of  some  other  way  of  being 

"  Y'  Ladyship's 

"  HoR.  Walpole." 

The  verses  enclosed  in  this  letter,  which  are  not  included 
in  Horace  Walpole's  collected  works,  run  as  follows  : — 

"To  Mr.  Pitt. 
•'  To  raise  a  Troop  a  thousand  ask ; 
To  please  'em  all  how  hard  a  task ! 
For,  whether  they  are  Whig  or  Tory, 
You've  vow'd  (a  thing  unheard  in  story) 
To  grant  what's  asked  for  England's  glory. 
I  too,  S',  on  great  actions  bent, 
Propose  to  raise  a  regiment ; 
But,  as  my  honest  heart,  like  yours. 
Abhors  all  kinds  of  Sinecures, 
If  but  a  Troop  or  Company, 
In  the  French  Service  let  it  be. 
For  you,  Engrosser,  have  no  longer 
Left  Britons  anything  to  conquer." 

Amongst  Mr.  Drummond-Moray's  papers   was   found  an 
answer  to  this  copy  of  verses,  which   the  editor  of  Lady 

19  c  2 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

Mary's  journal  says  is  neither  in  her  handwriting  nor  such 
a  composition  as  could  have  been  expected  from  her ;  and, 
as  it  is  not  in  Walpole's  handwriting  either,  Mr.  Home 
supposes  it  to  have  been  written  by  Lady  Temple,  the  style 
being  rather  like  hers,  and  there  being  few  other  ladies  at 
that  date  who  could  have  written  it : — 

"  Ly  M.  to  Mr.  W. 

"  A  very  pretty  scheme  you've  hit  on, 
Sir,  to  petition  Mr.  Pitt  on, 
A  Regiment  in  France  to  win  me  ! 
Each  drop  of  Campbell  blood  within  me 
Boils  at  the  thought  of  such  a  motion; 
And  then  it's  so  profound  a  notion, 
The  mighty  fortune  you  are  carving. 
Just  then  when  all  the  world  are  starving. 
I  hate  the  French  and  all  their  race  ; 
I'd  tell  it  to  the  Tyrant's  face. 
No,  if  I  am  a  soldier's  spouse, 
Give  me  your  Wolfes,  your  Clives,  your  Howes  ; 
One  sturdy  Briton,  I'll  be  swore, 
Is  worth  three  French  monsieurs  and  more; 
But  since  your  ardour  is  so  great 
By  weighty  deeds  to  serve  the  State, 
And,  as  you  say,  each  path  to  honour 
Is  occupied  by  some  Forerunner, 
Since  I,  too,  with  as  warm  a  zeal 
Burn  to  promote  the  Publick  Weal, 
What  if,  without  all  this  delay, 
You  e'en  shoud  take  me  while  you  may, 
And  raise  recruits  another  way  ?  " 

But  if  it  were  apparently  the  greatest  concern  of  Lady 
Mary's  friends  to  get  her  married  again,  her  own  greatest 
concern  was  to  insinuate  herself  into  the  Court  circle,  a 
matter  not  very  easy  of  accomplishment  by  an  unattached 
daughter  of  the  late  Duke  of  Argyll.  Little  help  could  be 
given  by  Duchess  Jane,  who  had  long  since  severed  her 
connection  with  Court  circles,  and  was  now  living  in  retire- 
ment at  Sudbrook.  And  perhaps  little  more  help  could  be 
afforded  by  Lady  Mary's  sisters,  although  "  the  most  noisy, 

20 


A   GRANDE  DAME—LADY   MARY   COKE 

hoydening  girls  in  London "  were  all  now  appropriately 
married  and  settled.  They  were  all  remarkable  women  in 
their  several  ways ;  and  as  they  will  be  only  incidentally 
mentioned  in  the  following  pages,  it  may  be  as  well  in  this 
place  to  state  briefly  what  became  of  them.  Lady  Caroline, 
the  eldest,  privately  engaged  herself  (that  is  to  say,  with  the 
knowledge  of  her  mother  and  sisters,  but  unknown  to  her 
father)  to  Lord  Lichfield,  or  Lord  Quarendon  as  he  then 
was.  In  1742,  when  she  was  twenty-four  years  of  age,  the 
Duke,  her  father,  thinking  it  quite  unnecessary  to  consult 
her,  arranged  that  she  should  marry  Lord  Dalkeith,  eldest 
son  of  the  Duke  of  Buccleuch.  This  unexpected  command 
made  her  very  ill,  so  that  she  was  confined  to  bed  for  many 
days,  and  was  so  delirious  that  her  physicians  had  little  hope 
of  her  recovery.  But  she  did  recover ;  and  after  a  short 
time  duty  conquered  inclination,  and  she  married  the  man  of 
her  father's  choice.  She  used  to  say  afterwards  that  she 
subsequently  found  Lord  Dalkeith  so  excellent  a  man  that 
she  was  bound  to  acknowledge  the  Duke's  judgment  in  the 
matter  to  be  better  than  her  own.  After  eight  years  of 
wedded  bliss,  however.  Lord  Dalkeith  died,  and  although 
she  remained  a  widow  for  five  years,  in  1755  she  determined 
to  risk  her  own  judgment  in  a  second  venture,  and  married  the 
Right  Hon.  Charles  Townshend,  the  brilliant  and  celebrated 
statesman.  When  he  died,  in  1767,  she  was  created  Baroness 
Greenwich  in  her  own  right.  She  died  at  Sudbrook  in  1794, 
at  the  age  of  seventy-six.  Lady  Anne,  who  married  the  Earl 
of  Strafford  in  1741,  when  he  was  only  nineteen  years  of  age, 
was  a  great  beauty ;  but  she  suffered  from  the  "  falling 
sickness,"  so  that  her  husband  was  obliged  to  put  considerable 
restraint  on  her  actions.  Wherever  she  might  be,  whether 
at  home  or  abroad,  several  footmen  were  always  kept  waiting 
below  stairs,  unknown  to  her,  ready  to  rush  in  and  hold  her 
when  an  attack  of  convulsions  came  on.  She  never  realised 
how  severe  these  attacks  were,  and  would  sometimes 
unconcernedly  refer   to   them  as  the  "  little   faintings "  to 

21 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

which  she  knew  she  was  subject  now  and  then.     One  day  in 
February,  1785,  her  servants  opened  the  door  of  her  dressing- 
room  in  Wentworth  Castle,  and  found  their  mistress  lying 
against  the  fire-grate  so  severely  burned  that  she  died  a  few 
days  afterwards.     Lady  Betty,  the  third  sister,  married  Mr. 
James  Stuart  Mackenzie,  of  Rosehaugh.     She  is  described 
as  being  more  like  her  mother  than  any  of  the  others  :  honest, 
well-meaning,    and    even   warm-hearted,    but    ill-mannered 
and  as  capricious  as  a  weathercock.     She  soon  obtained  an 
extraordinary  influence  over  her  husband ;  and  her  habit  of 
command  at  home  begot  a  certain  peremptoriness  in  society 
which  was  not  always  welcome.     Lady  Anne  Pitt,  sister  of 
the    great    commoner,   once  said,  "  Lady  Betty  takes  the 
liberty  in  society  of  telling  one  that  one  lies,  and  that  one 
is  a  fool ;  and  I  cannot  say  that  I  think  it  at  all  agreeable." 
Of  course  it  was  not  agreeable,  although  in  a  good  many 
cases,  doubtless,  it  was  only  too  true.     But  we  must  return 
to  Lady  Mary,  who,  notwithstanding  the  difficulties   in  her 
way,  very  soon  effected  her  entrance  into  the  sacred  circle  of 
the  Court.     She  managed  this  partly  by  setting  herself  to 
acquire  the  favour  of  Princess  Amelia,  George  the  Second's 
unmarried  daughter,  and  partly  by  cultivating  the  friendship 
of  Lady   Yarmouth,  the    King's   elderly    mistress,    between 
whom  and  his  Majesty  it  pleased  Lady  Mary  to  assume  that 
there  must  have  been  a  private  marriage.     Lady  Yarmouth, 
it   will    be   remembered,    was   the    sometime    Madame    de 
Walmoden  who  had   been   brought  over  from  Hanover  by 
George  the  Second  soon  after  the  death  of  Queen  Caroline, 
and  who  is  now  memorable  for  little  beyond  the  fact  that 
she    happens    to    be    the    last    recognised   royal   mistress 
that  a  King  of  England  ventured  to  raise  to  the  peerage. 
A  real  friendship  seems  to  have  sprung  up  between  these 
two,  for  after  the  King's    death,  when  Lady  Yarmouth,  of 
course,  became  a  person  of  no  importance  at  all.  Lady  Mary 
remained  on  affectionate  terms  with  her  to  the  day  of  her 
death.     The  Princess  Amelia  was  another   sort   of   person 

22 


A  GRANDE   DAME— LADY   MARY  COKE 

altogether.  She  had  been  for  some  time  the  intended  wife 
of  Frederick  (the  Great)  of  Prussia,  who  corresponded  with 
her  until  his  marriage  in  1773.  She  was  afterwards  thought 
by  many  of  that  class  of  "  well-informed"  persons  who,  as 
Lord  Chesterfield  used  to  say,  know  everything,  and  know 
everything  wrong,  to  be  privately  married  to  the  Duke  of 
Grafton.  But  apparently  she  never  gave  a  thought  to 
anybody  after  her  disappointment  in  the  case  of  the  great 
Frederick  ;  and  when  she  died  it  was  discovered  that  she  had 
always  worn  a  miniature  of  him  next  to  her  heart.  She  did  not 
become  attached  to  Lady  Mary  as  Lady  Yarmouth  did,  being, 
indeed,  alternately  amused  and  annoyed  at  her  vagaries,  but 
for  five-and-twenty  years  Lady  Mary  was  a  constant  guest  at 
the  dinners  and  card-parties  which  her  Royal  Highness  gave 
at  Gunnersbury  or  at  her  house  in  Cavendish  Square. 

It  was  seldom  that  Walpole  did  anything  but  make  fun  of 
Lady  Mary's  pretensions  to  influence  in  affairs  ;  but  once  in 
his  life  at  least  he  seems  to  have  thought  that  she  might  be 
able  to  secure  a  military  appointment  for  one  of  his  proteges. 
The  following  letter  is  not  dated  ;  but  from  internal  evidence 
it  must  have  been  written  some  time  between  1757  and  1759 : — 

"  Dear  Madam, — Woud  you  take  me  for  a  solicitor  ?  You  must, 
since  I  consider  you  as  a  Minister,  &  the  only  one  of  whom  I  woud 
ask  a  favour.  The  greatest  man  in  this  country  to  military  eyes  is  my 
Lord  Ligonier.  Now  all  the  world  knows  you  govern  him.  I  want  an 
advancement  for  a  young  man  who  has  served  some  time,  &  with 
great  gallantry,  &  whose  family  are  the  worthiest  people  on  earth. 
Yet  I  will  not  deceive  you,  there  is  an  objection  to  him,  the  one  he 
cannot  help,  but  I  have  too  great  a  regard  for  you  not  to  respect  your 
Ladyship's  prejudices  :  in  short,  he  is  a  Scotchman,  a  nation  you  don't 
love.  However,  if  you  can  surmount  y"^  aversion,  it  will  exceedingly 
oblige  me.  I  am  so  unfortunate  as  to  love  that  unfashionable  people, 
and  wish  to  serve  them.  Command  my  Lord  Ligonier  to  grant  the 
enclosed  request ;  the  more  earnest  you  are,  the  more  generous  the 
action  will  be ;  in  short,  if  you  don't  do  it,  I  will  not  believe,  what 
hitherto  I  always  had  believed,  that  even  Fourscore  cannot  resist 
you.  You  must  not  be  content  that  I,  who  am  but  half-way,  am  your 
absolute  slave. 

"  HoR.  Walpole.     How  is  your  cold  ?  " 

23 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

The  reference  to  her  prejudice  against  Scotchmen  is  some- 
what ambiguous.  On  the  face  of  it,  it  would  seem  to  be  only 
Walpole's  ironical  way  of  recommending  his  protege  to  a 
daughter  of  a  Duke  of  Argyll.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  a 
highly  curious  circumstance,  considering  her  parentage,  that 
she  visited  Scotland  but  twice  in  her  life,  once  with  her 
father  and  one  of  her  sisters  in  early  days,  and  once  in  1759. 
Whether  or  not  she  was  able  to  secure  the  appointment  for 
Walpole's  protege  does  not  appear ;  but  she  and  Lord 
Ligonier  were  on  the  best  of  terms  for  many  years.  He 
was  the  only  person,  she  declares,  from  whom  she  ever 
accepted  an  obligation,  and  when  he  died,  in  1770,  at  the  age 
of  ninety-one,  he  left  her  a  hundred  pounds  to  buy  a  ring  in 
remembrance  of  "  a  faithful  friend  and  servant." 

Walpole's  next  letter  to  her,  which  is  dated  from  Arlington 
Street,  February  19th,  1760,  is  not  so  intelligible  as  it  might 
be,  because  the  humorous  letter  to  which  it  refers  has  not  been 
preserved  with  Lady  Mary's  other  papers  : — 

"  Thank  you,  Madam,  for  letting  me  see  this  letter.  There  is  a  great 
deal  of  humour  in  it,  and  it  diverted  me  so  much  that  if  I  had  asked, 
&  had  y  leave,  I  woud  willingly  have  taken  a  copy  of  it ;  but  indeed 
I  have  not.  There  was,  I  daresay,  a  very  pretty  supplement  to  the 
Story,  which  y''  Ladyship  did  not  tell  me.  Did  not  the  Duke  show  he 
was  pleased  with  the  letter  ?  Your  father  had  too  much  wit  not  to  feel 
for  a  man  who  had  the  least  portion  of  it.  It  is  happy  to  have  temper 
enough  to  joke  oneself  out  of  a  prison,  but  it  is  happier  to  be  able  to 
deliver  a  man  who  jokes  there  ;  &  therefore,  Madam,  if  you  knew  the 
latter  part  of  the  story,  you  are  a  most  undutiful  Daughter  for  not 
telling  it.  Don't  fancy  because  you  are  silent  about  your  own  Virtues 
that  you  may  take  the  same  liberty  with  those  of  other  people.  It  is 
well  the  Duke  of  Argjdl's  reputation  is  established.  I  see  it  woud 
never  have  been  spread  had  it  depended  on  his  own  children.  He  was 
forced  to  owe  it  to  strangers.  In  short,  Madam,  I  am  very  angry,  &  if 
I  coud  help  it,  I  woud  not  be 

"  Yr  most  devoted 

"  Humble  Sert., 

"HoR.  Walpole." 

Later  on  in  the  course  of  this  year  we  find  an  occasional 
joke  in  his  letters  to  others  about  his  sufferings  from  the  gout, 

24 


A   GRANDE   DAME— J^ADY   MARY   COKE 

and  from  his  love  for  Lady  Mary  Coke,  and  an  occasional 
mention  of  meeting  her  at  some  princely  country  mansion  or 
other ;  but  apparently  he  did  not  write  to  her  again  until  the 
beginning  of  the  following  year.  Then,  however,  he  made 
amends,  both  by  the  length  and  the  quahty  of  his  epistle, 
which  is  dated  from  Newmarket,  February  12th,  1761,  at 
which  place  he  rested  on  his  journey  to  the  family  borough 
of  King's  Lynn,  whose  inactive  and  inattentive  M.P.  he  had 
been  for  the  past  four  years  : — 

"  You  woud  be  puzzled  to  guess,  Madam,  the  reflections  into  which 
SoHtude  &  an  Inn  have  thrown  me.  Perhaps  you  will  imagine  that  I  am 
regretting  not  being  at  Loo  at  Princess  Emily's,  or  that  I  am  detesting 
the  Corporation  of  Lynn  for  dragging  me  from  the  amusements  of 
London,  perhaps  that  I  am  meditating  what  I  shall  say  to  a  set  of 
people  I  never  saw,  or — which  woud  be  more  like  me — determining 
to  be  out  of  humour  the  whole  time  I  am  there,  and  show  how  little  I 
care  whether  they  elect  me  again  or  not.  If  your  absolute  sovereignty 
over  me  did  not  exclude  all  jealousy,  you  might  probably  suspect  that  the 
Duchess  of  Grafton  "  [afterwards  Lady  Ossory  and  a  favourite  corre- 
spondent of  his]  "  has  at  least  as  much  share  in  my  chagrin  as  Pam  " 
[i.e.,  the  game  of  Loo]  "  himself.  Come  nearer  to  the  point,  Madam, 
&  conclude  that  I  am  thinking  of  Lady  Mary  Coke,  but  in  a  style 
much  more  becoming  so  sentimental  a  Lover  than  if  I  was  merely 
concerned  for  your  absence.  In  short,  Madam,  I  am  pitying  you, 
actually  pitying  you  1  How  debasing  a  thought  for  your  dignity  I  but 
hear  me.  I  am  lamenting  your  fate  :  that  you,  with  all  your  charms 
and  all  your  merit,  are  not  yet  immortal.  Is  it  not  provoking  that, 
with  so  many  admirers  and  so  many  pretensions,  you  are  likely  to  be 
adored  only  so  long  as  you  live  ?  Charming,  in  an  age  when  Britain  is 
victorious  in  every  quarter  of  the  Globe,  you  are  not  yet  enrolled  in  the 
annals  of  its  fame  I  Shall  Wolfe  and  Boscawen  &  Amherst  be  the 
talk  of  future  ages,  &  the  name  of  Mary  Coke  not  be  known  ?  'Tis 
the  height  of  disgrace.  When  was  there  a  nation  that  excelled  the 
rest  of  the  world  whose  Beauties  were  not  as  celebrated  as  its  Heroes 
&  its  Orators  ?  Thais,  Aspasia,  Livia,  Octavia — I  beg  pardon  for 
mentioning  any  but  the  Last  when  I  am  alluding  to  you — are  as 
familiar  to  us  as  Alexander,  Pericles,  or  Augustus  ;  &  except  the 
Spartan  Ladies,  who  were  always  locked  up  in  the  two  pair  of  stairs 
making  child-bed  linen  and  round-eared  caps,  there  never  were  any 
women  of  fashion  in  a  gloriously  civilised  country  but  who  had  cards 
sent  to  invite  them  to  the  Temple  of  Fame  in  common  with  those 
drudges,  the  men,  who  had  done  the  dirty   work  of  honour.     I  say 

25 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

nothing  of  Spain,  where  they  had  so  true  a  notion  of  gallantry  that 
they  never  ventured  having  their  brains  knocked  out  but  with  a  view 
to  the  glory  of  their  Mistress.  If  her  name  was  but  renowned  from 
Segovia  to  Saragossa,  they  thought  all  the  world  knew  it  and  were 
content.  Nay,  Madam,  if  you  had  but  been  lucky  enough  to  be  born 
in  France  a  thousand  years  ago,  that  is  fifty  or  sixty,  you  woud  have 
gone  down  to  eternity  hand  in  hand  with  Louis  Quatorze  ;  &  the  Sun 
woud  never  have  shined  on  him,  as  it  did  purely  for  seventy  years,  but 
a  ray  of  it  woud  have  fallen  to  your  share.  You  woud  have  helped 
him  to  pass  the  Rhine  &  been  coupled  with  him  at  least  in  a 
Bout  rime. 

"  And  what  are  we  thinking  of?  Shall  we  suffer  posterity  to  imagine 
that  we  have  shed  all  this  blood  to  engross  the  pitiful  continent  of 
America  ?  Did  General  Clive  drop  from  Heaven  only  to  get  half  as 
much  as  Wortley  Montagu  ?  Yet  this  they  must  suppose,  unless  we 
immediately  set  about  to  inform  them  in  authentic  verse  that  your 
Eyes  &  half  a  dozen  other  pair  lighted  .up  all  this  blaze  of  glory.  I 
will  take  my  death  your  Ladyship  was  one  of  the  first  admirers  of 
Mr.  Pitt,  &  all  the  world  knows  that  his  Eloquence  gave  this  spirit 
to  our  arms.  But,  unluckily,  my  deposition  can  only  be  given  in  prose. 
I  am  neither  an  Hero  nor  a  Poet.  Tho'  I  am  as  much  in  love  as  if  I  had 
cut  a  thousand  throats,  or  made  ten  thousand  verses,  posterity  will 
never  know  anything  of  my  passion.  Poets  alone  are  permitted  to  tell 
the  real  truth.  Tho'  a  Historian  shoud,  with  as  many  asseverations 
as  Bishop  Burnet,  inform  mankind  that  the  lustre  of  the  British  arms 
under  George  2nd  was  singly  &  entirely  owing  to  the  charms  of  Lady 
Mary  Coke,  it  woud  not  be  believed.  The  slightest  hint  of  it  in  a  stanza 
of  Gray  woud  carry  conviction  to  the  end  of  time. 

"  Thus,  Madam,  I  have  laid  your  case  before  you.  You  may,  as  you 
have  done,  inspire  Mr.  Pitt  with  nobler  orations  than  were  uttered  in 
the  House  of  Commons  of  Greece  or  Rome;  you  may  set  all  the  world 
together  by  the  ears ;  you  may  send  for  all  the  cannon  from  Cherbourg, 
all  the  scalps  from  Quebec,  or  for  every  Nabob's  head  in  the  Indies; 
posterity  will  not  be  a  jot  the  wiser,  unless  you  give  the  word  of 
command  from  Berkeley  Square  in  an  ode,  or  you  &  I  meet  in  the 
groves  of  Sudbrook  in  the  midst  of  an  epic  poem.  'Tis  a  vexatious 
thought,  but  y'  Ladyship  &  this  age  of  triumphs  will  be  forgotten 
unless  somebody  writes  verses  worthy  of  you  both. 

"  I  am  your  Ladyship's 

"  Most  devoted  Slave, 

"  HoK.  Walpole." 

Old  George  the  Second  was  gathered  to  his  fathers,  and 
young  George  the  Third  ascended  the  throne  in  October, 
1760.     In  those  days  one  of  the  most  important  festivities  of 

26 


A   GRANDE   DAME—hA'DY   MARY   COKE 

the  year  was  the  sovereign's  birthday,  when  all  the  nobility 
and  gentry  in  London,  male  as  well  as  female,  vied  with  one 
another  in  the  magnificence  of  the  new  clothes  in  which  they 
presented  themselves  to  congratulate  their  monarch  at  the 
palace  of  St.  James's.  George  the  Third's  birthday  was 
June  4th,  and,  of  course.  Lady  Mary  was  particularly  anxious 
to  show  herself  and  her  new  dress  at  the  first  of  these  loyal 
celebrations.  But  for  some  little  time  previously  she  had 
been  out  of  health,  and  consequently  her  gallant  corre- 
spondent tried  to  dissuade  her  from  running  any  risks. 
Assuming  for  the  nonce  the  character  of  her  spiritual  adviser, 
he  delivered  himself  of  a  moral  discourse  to  the  following 
effect : — 

"  A   Sermon    on    abstaining    from    Birthdays    on   certain   occasions, 
preached  before  the  Right  Honourable  the  Lady  Mary  Coke  on 

Sunday,   May  31st,   1761,  by  H.  W ,  D.D.,  Chaplain  to  her 

Ladyship  and  Minister  of  St.  Mary,  Strawberry  Hill. 

"'Blessed  is  the  Woman  that  abstaineth  from  Birthdays,  because  of  the 
Angels.' — Epistle  of  St.  Luke  to  the  Camelinthians,  chap,  iii.,  v.  7. 

"  In  treating  the  words  which  I  have  just  read  to  you,  and  which 
have  given  occasion  to  much  disputation,  I  shall  endeavour  two  things : 
first,  to  show  what  the  words  do  not  mean,  and  in  the  second  place,  to 
discover  their  real  import ;  and  when  that  is  once  settled  I  shall  place 
before  you  the  duty  of  obedience  to  the  advice  of  the  Apostle.  Some 
overweening  Men,  too  fond  of  casting  stumbling-blocks  in  the  way  of 
their  brethren,  have  superstitiously  taken  a  handle  from  the  words  of 
my  text  to  prohibit  simple  women,  their  followers,  from  paying  the  first 
duty  of  attendance  on  the  Lord's  Annointed,  and  congratulating  him  in 
Christian  Charity  on  the  day  of  his  entrance  into  this  sublunary  world, 
a  duty  which,  give  me  leave  to  observe,  is  nowhere  forbidden  in  the 
Gospel,  but  which  has  been  practised  in  all  orthodox  societies  since  the 
cessation  of  persecution  and  the  conversion  of  the  heathen  Emperors 
to  Christianity.  St.  Clement  Cotterellianus,  in  his  epistle  to  that  holy 
virgin  St.  Lubrica,  says,  '  Shall  the  pagans  celebrate  the  festivals  of 
their  idols,  shall  they  burn  incense  before  them  on  the  supposed 
anniversary  of  their  nativity,  and  shall  not  the  faithfull  much  more 
rejoice  on  the  birthday  of  him '  (meaning  Constantine) '  who  hath  planted 
the  Cross  on  the  temples  of  those  false  gods  ?  O  Lubrica,  the  palace 
is  now  the  shrine  of  truth.  Veil  not  thy  face,  nor  cover  thy  neck,  but 
enter  into  the  penetralia  of  our  most  blessed  Emperor,  and  salute  him 

27 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

on  his  proper  feast.'  But  the  reason  now  given  for  dereliction  of  this 
commendable  practice  is  more  extraordinary  than  the  prohibition  itself  : 
'  Blessed  is  the  Woman  that  abstaineth  from  Birthdays,  because  of  the 
Angels' ;  that  is,  say  these  interpreters,  it  is  not  meet  for  a  Christian 
Matron  to  deck  herself  out  and  put  on  her  choicest  ornaments,  as  is 
customary  on  these  festivals,  because  the  Angels,  who,  the  Rabbins 
pretend,  have  been  tempted  to  covet  beautiful  women,  and  who  watch 
over  the  palaces  of  Princes,  may  be  drawn  into  sin  by  the  sight  of  such 
lovely  objects.  But  this  interpretation  is  grossly  erroneous,  carnal, 
and  partial,  as  I  shall  show.  It  is  erroneous,  because  we  nowhere  read 
in  the  inspired  writers  of  any  such  sinful  communication  between  a 
superior  order  of  Beings  and  us  Mortals  since  the  Deluge,  and  it  is 
not  to  be  supposed  that  the  Apostle  woud  give  injunctions  against 
what  was  never  likely  to  happen ;  it  is  carnal — my  respect  for  the 
blushes  of  this  audience  forbids  my  expatiating  on  this  subject,  and 
those  blushes  inform  me  that  a  further  discussion  woud  be  unneces- 
sary— and  it  is  partial,  because  a  precept  delivered  in  general  words 
must  be  calculated  for  the  generality.  Now,  if  there  were  any  meaning 
in  this  forced  construction,  the  Apostle  woud  exclude  all  the  young  and 
more  amiable  of  their  Sex  from  paying  the  duty  owed  by  subjects  to 
their  Sovereign,  and  woud  fill  his  Court  with  none  but  the  aged  and 
deformed,  for  I  suppose  those  refined  commentators  do  not  imagine 
that  the  Angels  woud  be  in  any  danger  of  sinning  even  in  thought  by 
the  sight  of  the  most  sumptuous  Hags  and  most  painted  and  most 
patched  Beldames.  This,  therefore,  cannot  be  the  meaning  of  the 
text. 

"  I  shall  endeavour,  secondly,  to  show  what  it  does  mean.  And 
in  sifting  into  any  ambiguous  passage  which  does  not  at  first  present 
an  obvious  meaning,  we  must  search  for  collateral  assistance,  and 
endeavour  to  collect  from  the  language,  situation,  or  circumstances  of 
the  Writer,  and  from  the  age  in  which  he  wrote,  and  from  the  persons 
to  whom  he  addressed  himself,  what  was  most  probably  the  scope  he 
had  in  view,  and  how  his  words  may  be  best  rendered  so  as  to  answer 
his  purpose.  By  trying  the  passage  before  us  on  this  touchstone,  we 
may  in  all  likelihood  arrive  at  a  certain  knowledge  of  the  Apostle's 
intention. 

"The  Epistle  is  addressed  to  the  Camelinthians,  a  most  beautiful 
race  of  people  inhabiting  the  north-west  coast  of  Thessalonica,  whose 
females  were  remarkably  tender,  delicate,  and  loyal.  It  was  written 
at  the  beginning  of  the  reign  of  Theodosius  the  Third,  the  most  hopefuU 
young  Prince  that  had  ever  ascended  the  throne  of  the  Caesars.  History 
informs  us  that  Mary,  a  noble  Lady  of  the  Race  I  have  mentioned,  and 
of  the  most  exact  harmony  of  features  and  person,  was  noted  for  her 
singular  attachment  to  the  Emperor,  in  opposition  to  the  pretensions 
of  the  Tyrant  Basilides.     She  was  but  just  recovered  from  a  dangerous 

28 


A   GRANDE   DAME—'LADY   MARY   COKE 

illness,  which  she  had  born  with  the  highest  fortitude  and  Christian 
resignation,  when  Theodosius  assumed  the  reins  of  empire.  The  young 
Lady  was  eager  to  present  herself  before  him  on  the  anniversary  of  his 
birth,  notwithstanding  the  representations  and  solicitude  of  her  friends 
and  family.  All  these  circumstances  we  are  informed  of  by  Eusebius, 
and  they  are  a  full  explanation  of  the  sense  of  the  Apostle  in  the  chapter 
before  us.  St.  Luke  wrote  in  Greek,  and  was,  moreover,  a  Physician. 
It  did  not  become  him  to  specify  the  particular  case  that  he  had  in  his 
eye,  but  he  plainly  included  it  in  general  words,  which  he  intended  for 
eternal  instruction  at  the  same  time  that,  in  his  secondary  capacity  of 
Physician,  he  had  a  regard  to  the  welfare  of  our  bodies  as  well  as  to 
that  of  our  souls.  'It  is  good,'  says  he,  'for  a  woman  to  abstain  from 
birthdays,  because  of  the  Angels ' ;  that  is,  because  of  the  Physicians,  or, 
paraphrastically,  because  by  frequenting  such  crowded  ceremonies  she 
may  prejudice  her  health  and  be  obliged  to  have  recourse  to  the 
Physician ,  and  I  presume  that  I  make  no  forced  inference  if  I  say  that 
a  woman  cannot  be  blessed — ergo,  she  sins — if  she  damages  her  health 
by  risking  it  unnecessarily  or  imprudently ;  and  this  is  no  wrested 
interpretation,  as  the  Greek  word  angelos  signifies  a  Messenger,  and, 
metaphorically,  a  Messenger  of  health,  i.e.,  a  physician.  Having  thus 
explained  to  you  both  what  is  not  the  meaning  of  the  Text  and  what 
is,  I  shall  now  draw  a  few  natural  inferences,  and  then  conclude.  The 
Apostle  condemns  such  women  as  frequent  Birthdays  when  their  health 
is  not  perfectly  established.  '  Can  you,'  he  seems  to  say,  '  rejoice  with  a 
pale  countenance,  or  with  what  propriety  can  you  wish  Health,  bearing 
the  tokens  of  sickness  in  yourself  ? '  '  Come  not  into  my  house  with 
leanness,'  says  the  Evangelist ;  and  one  of  the  sublimest  of  the  Prophets, 
speaking  in  the  figurative  expression  of  the  East,  cries  out, '  Strew  not  my 
floors  with  withered  lillies,  nor  cover  me  with  roses  that  have  lost  their  smell.' 
Again,  Solomon,  the  wisest  of  Kings  and  most  exquisite  judge  of  beauty, 
declares  his  opinion  to  the  same  effect :  '  My  beloved  came  to  my  chamber 
on  my  birthday ;  Health  was  in  her  cheek,  and  her  breath  smelt  as  the  young 
Roe's,  that  has  never  tasted  medicine.'  I  am  aware  that  this  last  text  is 
applied  by  the  Papists  to  the  Church  before  the  Reformation,  but  the 
words  are  so  simple  and  natural  that  there  is  no  reason  to  think  they 
contain  any  hidden  allegory ;  on  the  contrary,  St.  Luke's  Epistle  seems 
a  commentary  on  the  rapturous  breathings  of  the  sapient  King.  To  us 
Christians  there  is  a  still  higher  duty :  Health  is  the  best  gift  of  Heaven, 
and  is  not  to  be  sported  with  on  every  vain  occasion.  We  are  not 
allowed,  even  by  acts  of  devotion,  to  mortify  our  bodies  beyond  what 
they  will  bear,  much  less  to  macerate  and  torture  them  on  worldly 
occasions,  and  for  the  sake  of  Babylonish  show.  How  woud  our  spirit 
tremble  and  sink  if,  precipitating  our  exit  by  some  such  light  occasion, 
we  shoud,  on  rushing  into  another  world,  be  asked  that  terrible  question, 
'  Soul,  how  earnest  thou  hither  ? '  and  shoud  have  nothing  to  answer 

29 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

but  '  I  caught  my  death  at  a  Birthday,'— which  that  we  may  none  of 
us  do,"  etc.,  etc. 

This  sermon,  which,  if  recited  in  the  tone  and  manner  of 
some  cleric  of  their  acquaintance,  probably  made  a  fair 
enough  parody  on  the  kind  of  discourse  that  Lady  Mary  and 
Horace  Walpole  would  frequently  have  listened  to  together 
in  the  church  of  Richmond  or  of  Twickenham,  did  not,  how- 
ever, meet  with  her  Ladyship's  approbation.  She  does  not 
appear  to  have  objected  to  its  rather  laboured  wit,  nor  to  what 
some  ladies  would  have  considered  its  flavour  of  profanity, 
but  the  pretended  quotations  about  leanness,  and  withered 
lilies,  and  roses  that  had  lost  their  smell,  seemed  to  her  to 
imply  that  he  believed  her  illness  to  have  spoilt  her  good 
looks,  and  she  resented  it  accordingly.  Her  letter  on  the 
subject  has  not  been  preserved,  but  two  days  later  he 
endeavoured  to  smooth  her  down  as  follows  : — 

"  Strawberry  Hill, 

"■June  ^rd,  1761. 
"  Dear  Madam, — I  will  renounce  my  new  vocation  if  my  zeal  hath 
eaten  you  up.  I  intended  to  laugh  you  out  of  danger,  but  I  resign  all 
the  honour  that  has  attended  my  preaching  if  I  have  given  you  an 
uneasy  moment  or  a  disagreeable  thought.  You  answer  me  too 
seriously  upon  the  foot  of  looks ;  I  wish  I  coud  always  justify  myself  as 
well  as  I  can  on  this  chapter  I  Did  ever  any  man  tell  a  very  pretty 
woman  that  she  looked  ill  but  when  it  was  in  her  power  to  look  well,  or 
when  she  was  sure  of  looking  well  immediately  ?  It  is  brutal — a 
behaviour  I  think  your  Ladyship  cannot  suspect  me  of — to  tell  a  woman 
her  beauty  is  gone ;  it  is  kind  to  warn  her  to  preserve  it,  or  to  take  care 
to  recover  it  when  it  is  clouded  by  sickness.  I  don't  love  to  put  myself 
too  much  in  your  power,  but  how  are  you  sure  that  I  was  not  jealous 
lest  anybody  shoud  look  better  than  you  at  the  Birthday  ?  I  knew  you 
woud  not  borrow  any  bloom ;  I  knew  a  little  time  woud  restore  it.  It  is 
for  the  honour  of  my  passion  that  you  shoud  never  be  seen  without 
being  admired,  &  it  imported  to  my  glory  that  Lady  Mary  Coke  shoud 
rather  be  missed  at  the  first  birthday  of  the  King  than  that  a  charm  of 
hers  shoud  be  missing.  But  I  had  a  better  reason  than  all  these  :  I  was 
seriously  afraid  of  your  hurting  yourself,  &  my  having  staggered  your 
resolution  proves  to  me  that  if  our  Divines  make  no  more  converts  it  is 
because  they  do  not  feel  what  they  preach.  I  was  eloquent  because  I 
spoke  from  my  heart. 

30 


A   GRANDE   DAME—'LKDY   MARY   COKE 

"  I  propose  to  be  in  town  on  Friday,  &  shall  be  happy  to  receive 
your  commands  for  a  visit  to  Strawberry — if  Strawberry  is  not  drowned. 
I  have  scarce  been  able  to  stir  out  of  the  house  since  Monday  morning. 
My  workmen  are  all  at  a  stand,  &  the  Deluge  seems  to  be  arrived 
before  my  ark  is  half  ready.     Adieu,  Madam. 

"  Y'  most  faithfull 

"humble  Sert., 

"  HoR.  Walpole." 

Walpole  wrote  to  many  of  his  correspondents  about  Lady 
Mary  in  much  the  same  gallant  style  that  he  invariably 
adopted  in  his  letters  to  herself.  But  with  all  his  admiration, 
which  was  evidently  genuine  enough,  no  one  more  clearly 
saw  her  faults  and  foibles ;  and  there  is  always  an  undertone 
of  subtle  raillery,  which  she  does  not  seem  to  have  felt, 
but  which  was  quite  patent  to  anybody  else.  When  she 
went  to  the  Continent  in  the  spring  of  1761,  he  enjoined 
Conway  to  tell  him  how  many  burgomasters  she  subdued, 
or  how  many  would  have  fallen  in  love  with  her  if  they  had 
not  fallen  asleep  instead,  whether  her  charms  caused  the  inn- 
keepers to  abate  something  of  their  usual  impositions, 
whether  she  realised  how  politically  significant  her  journey 
was  considered  to  be,  and  so  forth.  And  when,  in  December 
of  that  year,  he  composed  some  lines  extempore  (such  things, 
of  course,  were  always  extempore)  on  the  St.  Anthony's  fire 
in  her  cheek,  the  verses  were  sent,  not  only  to  the  lady 
herself,  but  to  other  friends  and  acquaintances  as  well. 
Doubtless  he  was  quite  well  aware  that  he  had  a  very  pretty 
gift  for  this  style  of  compliment  both  in  prose  and  in  verse, 
and  was  as  much  in  love  with  his  own  compositions  as  with 
the   person  who   gave   occasion  for  them.      These  are  the 

verses : — 

"  On  Lady  Mary  Coke  having  St.  Anthony's 
Fire  in  her  Cheek. 

"  No  rouge  you  wear,  nor  can  a  dart 
From  Love's  bright  quiver  wound  your  heart ; 
And  thought  you  Cupid  and  his  Mother 
Would  unrevenged  their  anger  smother  ? 
No,  no,  from  Heaven  they  sent  the  fire 
That  boasts  St.  Anthony  its  sire ; 

31 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

They  poured  it  on  one  peccant  part, 

Inflamed  your  cheek,  if  not  your  heart. 

In  vain — for  see  the  crimson  rise 

And  dart  fresh  lustre  through  your  eyes, 

While  ruddier  drops  and  baffled  pain 

Enhance  the  white  they  mean  to  stain. 

Ah  !  nymph,  on  that  unfading  face 

With  fruitless  pencil  Time  shall  trace 

His  lines  malignant,  since  disease 

But  gives  you  mightier  powers  to  please." 

We   may   take   it   for   granted   that   this    was   much   more 

acceptable  than  the  references  to  withered  hiies,  etc.,  in  his 

mock  sermon. 

Early  in  the   following  summer   Lady  Mary  appears  to 

have  made  another  little  jaunt  abroad,  and  to  have  had  some 

trouble  with  the  authorities  at  Calais.     It  was  probably  a 

matter  scarce  worth  mentioning  twice,  but  her  knight  of  the 

pen  deftly  weaved  it  into  his   next  complimentary  epistle. 

Towards  the  end  of  June  news  of  a  British  victory  over  the 

French  reached  London.     Prince   Ferdinand  of  Brunswick 

and  the  Marquis  of  Granby  had  made  a  successful  attack  on 

the  French  on  the  24th  of  the  previous  month,  surprising  the 

army  under  Marshals  d'Estrees  and  Soubise  at  their  camp  at 

Cassel,  in  Westphalia,  and  taking  a  large  number  of  prisoners. 

On  receipt  of  this  intelligence  Walpole  at  once  sat  down  and 

wrote  as  follows  : — 

"  Strawberry  Hill, 

^^  June  ^oth,  1762. 
"  When  Britons  are  victorious,  it  is  impossible  not  to  congratulate  the 
first  Heroine  of  Britain.  Pray,  Madam,  did  your  Ladyship  command 
Prince  Ferdinand  to  attack  the  French  camp  in  revenge  for  the  Governor 
of  Calais  presuming  to  attempt  making  you  a  Prisoner  ?  or  did  the 
spirit  of  John,  Duke  of  Argyle,  inspire  his  countrymen  with  this  ardour, 
&  vindicate  his  Daughter  from  such  an  insult  ?  I  have  told  my  Lord 
Hertford  that  I  expect  to  hear  y"^  Ladyship  has  made  a  triumphant 
entry  into  our  headquarters,  &  that  with  becoming  dignity  you  have 
obtained  from  our  General  the  liberty  of  the  200  French  officers,  a  proper 
way  of  resenting  your  confinement.  Go  to  the  army  you  certainly  will. 
Steel  waters  you  cannot  want,  you  who  want  nothing  but  a  helmet  to  be 
taken  for  Britannia.  Pray  let  me  know  in  time.  It  woud  be  most  shameful 

32 


A  GRANDE   DAME— LADY   MARY  COKE 

in  me  to  be  languishing  under  an  Acacia  while  my  Sovereign  Lady  is  at 
the  head  of  a  Squadron.  All  our  other  Militant  Dames  have  followed 
their  Husbands  ;  your  Ladyship  will  follow  Victory,  and  influence 
more.  It  is  grievous  that  one  female  Campbell  should  have  quitted 
Germany  at  the  opening  of  a  Campaign.  No,  I  will  go  fetch  my  Lady 
Ailesbury  from  Park  Place,  and  my  Lady  Cecilia,  who  is  not  big  enough 
yet  to  hurt  Master  Johnson's  head  by  wearing  a  coat  of  mail,  tho'  I  fear 
she  &  I  shall  look  a  little  like  starved  vultures  that  follow  the  army  for 
prey.  As  to  peace,  it  is  now  undoubtedly  removed  to  a  great  distance  ; 
there  can  be  no  end  of  war  while  another  Mary  has  Calais  written  on  her 
heart,  &  a  Mary  whose  heart  will  not  easily  break.  I  know,  to  my 
sorrow,  how  invulnerable  it  is.  Well !  I  can  but  go  and  be  killed.  I 
shall  die  in  your  sight,  &  you  will  avenge  my  death,  tho'  you  woud  not 
save  my  life.  I  did  not  think  this  woud  be  my  end,  but  the  King  of 
Prussia  and  other  great  men  have  been  made  Heroes,  whom  nature 
never  intended  for  the  profession,  yet  I  cannot  help  laughing  to  think 
what  a  figure  I  shall  make  !  for  I  am  too  much  a  Goth  &  not  so  much  an 
Hero,  but  I  will  be  completely  armed,  &  from  my  own  armoury  here  : 
a  rusty  helmet  with  rotten  wadding  ;  a  coat  of  mail  that  came  from 
Combe,  &  belonged  to  a  trooper  of  the  Earl  of  Warwick :  it  will  be 
full  heavy  for  my  strength,  but  there  is  a  mark  of  its  being  bullet-proof 
— alas  !  I  had  forgot  I  am  to  be  shot — one  gauntlet :  I  have  no  more  ;  a 
Persian  shield  enamelled  ;  a  Chinese  bow,  quiver,  &  arrows  ;  an  Indian 
sabre  &  dagger ;  &  a  Spear  made  of  wood  with  fifty  points.  Dear 
Lady,  don't  set  out  without  me  ;  stay  for  S"^  Scudamore.  Cannot  you 
find  any  little  episode  to  amuse  you  in  the  meantime  ?  How  has  the 
Bishop  of  Liege  behaved  to  you  ?  Has  he  neglected  to  kiss  the  hem  of 
your  garment  ?  Dispossess  him  ;  order  the  Chapter  to  elect  another, 
I  flatter  myself  you  cannot  want  warfare.  '  Confined  to  an  Inn !  S""  ,  I 
never  was  a  Prisoner  yet ;  I  will  not  stay  a  moment  in  your  town.' 
Dear  Lady  Mary,  how  I  honour  your  spirit !  I  can  give  you  a  very  good 
account  of  part  of  your  family.  I  was  at  Sudbrook  this  evening  &  saw 
the  Duchess  and  Lady  Betty  in  perfect  health.  Mr.  McKinsy  "  {sic) 
"  told  me  of  the  battle. 

"  If  you  had  not  had  my  heart  before,  you  woud  have  won  it  by  your 
kind  attention  to  Lady  Hertford  ;  but  I  fear  all  is  in  vain.  She  will 
not  hear  of  Spa,  &  is  gone  to-day  to  Ragley,  &  I  doubt,  will  go  to 
Ireland.  Nothing  touches  her  about  herself.  She  is  as  indifferent  to 
that  as  active  &  anxious  about  her  family.  Adieu,  Madam,  whether 
we  meet  on  the  banks  of  the  Elbe  or  the  Thames,  you  know  I  am 

"  Most  devotedly  yours, 

"HoR.  Walpole." 

In  the  course  of  the  year  1763  we  get  an  occasional  ghmpse 
of  her  Ladyship  at  the  Opera,  at  somebody's  magnificent 
N.D.  33  D 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

entertainment,  or  at  Court.  Walpole  mentions  her  as  one 
amongst  a  large  company,  including  Madame  de  Boufflers 
and  other  French  people,  at  Strawberry  Hill.  In  the  cha- 
racter of  Imoinda,  she  was  one  of  the  principal  beauties  of  the 
night  at  a  grand  masquerade  at  Richmond  House.  Prince 
de  Masseran  brought  over  for  her  a  gown  from  Paris 
(smuggled  through  in  all  probability),  which  she  was  greatly 
disappointed  to  find  a  comparatively  simple  one,  instead  of  a 
specially  handsome  dress  which  had  been  bought  for  her  by 
Lady  Holland,  wherefore  Lord  Hertford  was  instructed, 
through  Horace  Walpole,  that  the  finer  garment  must  be  got 
over  the  Channel  somehow,  even  if  a  special  ambassador 
were  necessary  for  the  purpose.  No  doubt  she  did  really 
make  a  very  fine  figure  in  society  at  this  time,  for  Walpole 
was  not  the  only  person  to  celebrate  her  charms  in  verse. 
One  day,  at  the  Princess  Amelia's,  Lady  Temple  produced 
the  following  verses  (impromptu,  of  course),  and  the  Princess 
was  afterwards  much  upbraided  by  Lady  Mary  for  showing 
them  to  everybody  else,  but  not  to  the  person  on  whom 
they  were  written.  Coming  as  they  do  from  a  rival  female 
courtier,  they  may  be  considered  as  infinitely  more  compli- 
mentary than  if  they  proceeded  from  the  pen  of  a  declared 
male  admirer  such  as  Walpole  : — 

"  She  sometimes  laughs,  but  never  loud  ; 
She's  handsome  too,  but  somewhat  proud  ; 
At  Court  she  bears  away  the  belle  ; 
She  dresses  fine,  and  figures  well ; 
With  decency,  she's  gay  and  airy ; 
Who  can  this  be  but  Lady  Mary  ?  " 

In  1764  her  mother  died,  and  it  may  be  presumed  that  she 
went  into  strict  retirement,  for  no  mention  of  her  is  to  be 
found  until  the  autumn  of  1765,  when  Walpole,  writing  to  her 
brother-in-law.  Lord  Strafford,  apropos  of  an  approaching 
visit  to  Paris,  observes  that  he  is  sure  to  enjoy  himself  during 
the  earlier  part  of  the  time  at  least,  because  Lady  Mary  will 
be  there,  "  as  if  by  assignation."     As  it  happened,  he  met  her 

34 


A   GRANDE   DAME— LADY   MARY   COKE 

before  he  reached  Paris,  for  in  a  letter  to  Conway  from 
Amiens  on  September  nth  he  says  that  when  about 
half  a  mile  from  that  town  he  saw  coming  towards  him  a 
coach-and-four,  wherein  sat  a  lady  in  pea-green  and  silver, 
with  a  very  smart  hat  and  feather,  recognising  whom  he 
jumped  out  of  his  chaise,  fell  on  his  knees,  and  said  his  first 
Ave  Maria,  gratia  plena ;  but  after  a  short  interchange  of  gossip 
they  shook  hands  and  parted,  she  going  to  the  Hereditary 
Princess,  he  to  his  inn.  Before  long  she  returned  to  England, 
but  he  remained  in  Paris  for  some  months,  whence  on 
October  15th  he  addressed  to  her  the  following  gossipy 
letter.  His  falling  in  love  three  times  presumably  refers  to 
the  admiiation  he  felt,  and  expresses  elsewhere,  for  Madame 
de  Rochefort,  Madame  de  Mirepoix,  and  Madame  de  Monaco. 
It  may  also,  perhaps,  be  necessary  to  explain,  as  he  does 
explain  in  a  letter  to  Conway,  that  the  "  beast  of  the 
Gevaudan "  was  an  exceedingly  large  wolf,  which  was 
alleged  to  have  "  twelve  teeth  more  than  any  other  wolf  ever 
had  since  the  days  of  Romulus's  wet-nurse,"  and  which  was 
shown  in  the  Queen's  antechamber  ''  with  as  much  parade 
as  if  it  was  Mr.  Pitt." 

"  As,  to  be  sure,  Lady  Mary,  you  have  read  the  works  of  every 
Horace  that  ever  writ,  you  may  remember  that  one  of  us  has  said 
something  like  this  :  Ccelum  non  podagram  nmtant  qui  trans  mare 
currunt.  The  verse,  as  I  quote  it,  is  a  little  lame,  but  you  must 
consider  it  has  got  the  gout.  So,  alas!  have  I.  Is  it  not  moving  to  be 
cut  off  in  the  bud  of  one's  curiosity,  and  at  the  entrance  of  a  new  career 
that  promised  so  bright  a  campaign  ?  For  I  must  confess  all  my 
infidelities.  You  are  accustomed  to  hear  and  pardon  them.  In  two 
days  I  fell  in  love  three  times  ;  &  the  Lord  knows  how  large  the 
building  of  my  seraglio  must  have  been,  if  this  wicked  Gout  had  not 
stepped  in  between  me  and  the  digging  of  the  foundations.  I  do  not 
let  it  proceed,  lest  it  shoud  be  taken  for  an  Hospital,  especially  as  one 
or  two  of  my  Passions  approach  nearer  to  the  age  of  Invalids  than  of 
Sultanas.  The  affront  to  your  sovereign  charms,  I  own,  is  aggravated 
by  my  going  to  fish  into  the  last  age  for  subjects  of  Inconstancy  ;  but 
what  signifies  it  ?  I  always  return  to  you  ;  and  at  last  you  will  have  no 
competitor  left  but  the  Gout,  who  is  si  aimable ! 

"  Your  Ladyship,  who  only  glanced  at  Paris,  saw  more  of  it  than  I 

35  D2 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

have.  However,  before  I  was  confined  I  had  the  fortune  to  be  treated 
with  the  sight  of  what,  next  to  Mr.  Pitt,  has  occasioned  most  alarm  in 
France,  the  Beast  of  the  Gevaudan.  It  was  in  the  Queen's  antichamber 
at  Verseilles  when  I  was  presented  to  her.  The  first  bracelets  that  are 
made  of  its  hair,  you  shall  have  one.  It  has  left  an  Andromache  and 
four  little  Princes.  The  Savage  Dowager  wanted  Monsieur  d'Alembert 
to  educate  her  cubs,  but  having  refused  the  Czarina,  he  coud  not 
decently  undertake  the  charge,  tho'  there  were  more  hopes  of  unteaching 
them  their  bloodthirstiness  than  he  coud  entertain  of  the  Russian 
progeny. 

"  The  Court  is  at  Fontainebleau ;  &  the  residence  there,  which  was 
to  have  been  shortened,  is  now  to  continue  to  the  i8th  of  November, 
the  change  of  Air  and  Ass's  milk  agreeing  so  well  with  the  Dauphin, 
that  they  begin  to  have  hopes  of  him.  This  leaves  Paris  a  Desart  —but 
what  is  a  Desart  more  or  less  to  a  man  lying  on  a  couch  ?  Indeed,  I 
have  company  enough  from  morning  to  night,  who  have  the  charity  to 
visit  me.  The  Due  de  Nivernois  is  inexpressibly  good,  &  has  scarce 
missed  a  day.  He  says  he  called  often  at  your  door,  &  regrets  not 
having  seen  you.  Lady  Mary  Chabot,  Madame  Geoffrin,  Madame  de 
Juliac,  the  old  President  Haynault,  and  twenty  others  have  been  by 
my  bedside ;  in  short,  tho'  I  am  only  related  to  Mr.  Pitt  by  the  Gout,  I 
find  they  have  great  respect  for  me.  Here  are  but  few  English  now, 
but  there  is  one  of  the  most  amiable  I  ever  knew,  Lord  Ossory,  whom 
I  see  often.  He  has  a  great  deal  of  the  engaging  manner  of  his  cousin 
Tavistock,  is  modest,  manly,  very  sensible,  &  well  bred.  Of  your 
Islanders  &  your  politics,  thank  God,  I  know  nothing  at  all ;  &  I 
am  almost  afraid  of  asking  any  questions,  lest  I  betray  my  ignorance, — 
but  is  it  true,  as  they  say  here,  that  Lord  Temple  is  made  Governor  of 
the  King's  children  ?  that  Lord  Sandwich  is  turned  Methodist  ?  & 
that  Mr.  Ellis  has  been  taken  up  for  writing  treasonable  papers  ?  I 
don't  know  how  to  believe  these  things,  tho'  I  have  seen  many  as 
strange.  Perhaps  they  only  tell  me  so  to  amuse  my  confinement.  My 
Gracious  Lady's  pen  will  make  any  news  acceptable  to  me.  I  hope  it  is 
not  the  contrary  to  her  that  I  have  retained  my  place  in  our  box  "  [i.e., 
at  the  Opera].  "  What  use  I  shall  make  of  it  the  Lord  knows.  If  I 
knew  of  any  remedy  for  the  Gout,  even  in  Japan,  I  shoud  be  tempted 
to  go  thither  ;  but  how  or  when  am  I  to  get  even  thither  ?  My  little 
feet  coud  not  bear  yet  a  Giant's  slipper.  When  you  see  Lady  Suffolk, 
mention  me  to  her  with  the  respect  &  gratitude  I  feel ;  &  whenever 
you  write  to  Wentworth  Castle,  Madam,  don't  forget  my  strong  attach- 
ments there.  Any  good  account  of  Lady  Strafford's  health  will  always 
be  mo?t  welcome  to  me.  Not  doubting  your  charity  to  a  poor  Invalid, 
I  beg  your  Ladj'ship  to  send  your  letter  to  Mr.  Conway's  office, 
recommandee  a  Mons''  Foley,  Banquier.  My  letter,  I  perceive,  is 
scarcely   legible,    my  paper,   ink,   and   pens   are    abominable,   &    my 

36 


A   GRANDE   DAME— LADY   MARY   COKE 

posture  worse,  but  zeal,  you  see,   Madam,  can  write,  though  leaning 

on  its  arm. 

"  I  am  your  Ladyship's, 

"though  iuconstant,  yet  unalterable, 

"  Humble  Sert., 

"  HoR.  Walpole." 

About  this  time  Lady  Yarmouth  died  in  Hanover.  Since 
the  death  of  George  the  Second  she  had  naturally  sunk  into 
obscurity ;  but  if  nobody  else  in  England  mourned  for  her, 
Lady  Mary  Coke  did,  and  Walpole's  next  letter,  as  in  duty 
bound,  commences  with  some  characteristically  expressed 
condolences  on  that  event.  Ten  years  later,  when  the 
friendship  between  him  and  Lady  Mary  did  not,  to  use  his 
own  expression,  "  await  the  trial  of  a  total  separation,"  some 
equally  cynical  society  philosopher  might  very  well  have 
repeated  the  worldly-wise  moralisings  of  his  first  paragraph 

in  a  consolatory  epistle  to  himself. 

"  Paris, 

"November  ijth,  1765. 

"  Your  heart.  Lady  Mary,  is  too  feeling  for  a  World  in  which 
Ingratitude  and  Death  reign.  I  am  heartily  sorry  for  your  loss  of 
Lady  Yarmouth ;  she  was  a  very  valuable  woman  ;  but  you  must  not 
give  way  to  all  the  friendship  you  are  capable  of.  By  some  means  or 
other,  it  will  embitter  your  whole  life  ;  &  tho'  it  is  very  insipid  to  be 
indifferent,  the  vexations  consequential  of  attachments  are  much  too 
dearly  bought  by  any  satisfaction  they  produce.  Perhaps,  if  Death  was 
the  only  dissolvent  of  connections,  one  woud  run  the  risk,  because 
Esteem  is  mixed  with  grief ;  the  sensation  has  a  kind  of  sweetness 
in  it,  but  it  is  so  seldom  that  friendship  is  mutual,  that  it  rarely  awaits 
the  trial  of  a  total  separation ;  and  who  woud  be  more  concerned  for 
another  than  that  Person  woud  be  for  you  ?  If  I  was  younger,  I 
certainly  shoud  not  preach  this  Doctrine  to  you,  Madam,  but  I  know 
your  worth,  I  do  not  know  that  of  many  more,  &  I  am  sorry  to  see 
you  so  often  miserable ;  not  one  in  a  hundred  deserves  such  sincerity 
as  yours. 

"  I  am  got  again  a  little  into  the  World,  &  during  my  illness 
received  great  marks  of  kindness  &  attention  from  several  persons. 
But  you  must  not  believe,  Madam,  the  ridiculous  stories  which  have 
been  propagated  in  England — I  suppose  to  laugh  at  me.  The  circle 
of  my  acquaintance  here  is  narrow,  &  lies  amongst  the  most 
reasonable  people  I  coud  find,  who  treat  me  with  great  goodness  & 

37 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

compassion,  but  who  are  too  sensible,  &,  I  hope,  think  me  so,  to 
commend  my  person  or  admire  me,  as  has  been  reported.  I  speak 
their  language  too  ill  even  to  give  way  to  my  natural  spirits,  &  tho' 
I  trust  I  shall  find  them  again  at  my  return,  I  flatter  myself  that  you 
will  not  perceive  me  become  a  coxcomb,  nor  in  love  with  myself,  at 
eight-and-forty,  &  after  five  months  of  Gout.  I  hope  to  be  good- 
humoured  to  the  last,  but  it  will  be  a  little  hard  if  my  Chearfulness  is 
taken  for  Vanity.  I  dare  not  now,  after  what  I  have  heard,  joke  on 
my  passions,  lest  these  should  pass  for  pretensions,  nor  admire  Madame 
de  la  Valliere's  eyes,  lest  some  kind  body  or  other  shoud  talk  of  mine. 
You  know  me,  Lady  Mary,  &,  I  hope,  will  acquit  me  of  any  follies  of 
self-love.  I  have  many  others,  &  am  willing  to  retain  them,  but  on 
that  head,  indeed,  I  have  not  been  guilty.  Paris  is  still  a  Desart.  The 
Dauphin,  who  received  the  last  Sacraments  two  or  three  days  ago, 
languishes  on.  However,  he  has  mended  so  much,  that  they  have 
appointed  the  Duke  of  Richmond's  audience  to-day,  &  he  is  accord- 
ingly gone  to  Fontainebleau.  I  question  whether  the  Duchess  will 
not  be  prevented  for  some  time,  as  the  Dauphin  cannot  last  many  days. 
Other  French  news  I  have  none,  &  full  as  little  of  English.  Nobody 
will  ever  tell  me  the  Duke  of  Dorset's  will,  or  whether  the  Duke  of 
Cumberland  made  one ;  but  everybody  says,  '  I  tell  you  no  news 
because  I  conclude  you  have  it  from  better  hands.'  I  woud  be  content 
to  know  what  has  turned  things  round  so  that  my  Lady  Bolingbroke 
is  in  disgrace  at  Bedford  House,  &  my  Lord  in  favour  there.  These 
may  be  old  Stories  in  London,  but  woud  be  very  new  to  me.  You  see, 
I  am  humble  in  my  curiosity.  You  will  soon  see  the  Duke  of  Beaufort 
from  hence,  will  find  him  improved  in  his  person,  good-natured,  and 
civil.  I  am  glad  to  find.  Madam,  that  Lady  Brown  is  a  friend  of  yours  ; 
She  is  uncon:imonly  good-humoured  &  agreeably  chearfuL  Lord  & 
Lady  Fife  find  her  a  great  resource.  Tho'  I  have  been  here  now  above 
two  months,  I  have  seen  few  of  the  Beauties  &  none  of  the  Princes  of 
the  Blood.  Above  five  weeks  I  was  confined,  or  at  least  an  Invalid.  The 
Dauphin's  illness  has  locked  up  everybody  at  Fontainebleau.  How- 
ever, as  I  think  this  will  be  my  last  expedition  across  the  Sea,  I 
endeavour  &  intend  to  see  as  much  as  I  can.  This  is  no  very 
difficult  task,  as  variety  certainly  does  not  compose  the  life  of  the 
French.  They  live  by  the  Clock,  by  the  almanack,  and  by  custom.  I 
think  I  coud  with  great  truth  write  travels  to  Paris  that  woud  totally 
contradict  all  ideas  received  of  the  French  in  England.  I  like  many 
of  the  people,  and  with  great  reason  ;  am  reconciled  to  several  things 
that  displeased  me  at  first ;  but  there  wants  that  singularity  which, 
however  unreasonable,  makes  every  English  Character  a  Novelty.  Tho' 
the  country  and  the  people  are  new  to  me,  I  find  it  more  difficult  to 
say  anything  in  my  letters  from  hence  than  ever  I  did  in  England. 
When  I  find  that  the  case,  it  is  time,  you  will  allow,  to  finish.    Je  ne 

38 


A  GRANDE  DAME— LADY   MARY  COKE 

ni'ennuis  pas,  mais  je  vous  enmiierois.  In  short,  as  the  French  don't  love 
laughing,  I  will  reserve  my  spirits  till  we  meet  in  our  box  at  the  Opera. 
I  tumble  down  ten  times  in  the  day,  &  am  sensible  that  I  ought  to 
grow  old  ;  but  I  don't  know  how,  I  still  flatter  myself  that  I  shall  live 
to  be  foolish  again.  Not  in  public,  where  I  intend  to  observe  all  the 
decorum  and  dignity  of  the  gout ;  but  I  doubt  my  friends  will  not  find 
that  my  Wrinkles  are  very  serious.  Wrinkles,  I  assure  you,  there  are, 
new  ones,  too  ;  and  if  there  were  not,  I  woud  paint  them  sooner  than 
lie  under  the  calumny  of  being  charming.  This  does  not  imply,  Lady 
Mary,  that  I  give  up  the  least  tittle  of  my  claim  to  your  Heart ;  on  the 
contrary,  I  pretend  that  you  (&  you  only)  shoud  see  my  stick  (if  I 
am  forced  to  return  with  one)  in  the  light  of  a  crook,  for,  in  spite  of 
Madame  de  la  Valliere,  etc.,  I  am  still,  &  ever  will  be, 

"  y   Pastor  fido, 

"  HoR.  Walpole." 

Walpole,  now  verging  on  fifty  years  of  age,  had  never  been 
in  Paris  since  he  went  the  grand  tour  when  he  was  twenty- 
one  ;  but,  as  will  be  seen  from  his  next  letter  to  Lady  Mary, 
when  the  first  strangeness  had  worn  off,  he  took  very  kindly 
both  to  the  place  and  the  people,  and  was  in  no  hurry  to 
return  home : — 

"  Paris, 

"Jan.  4th,  1766. 

"  I,  that  am  used  to  the  rapidity  of  events  in  London,  Madam,  am 
astonished  at  the  dearth  of  Paris.  They  have  no  occurrences  but 
deaths,  &  marriages,  &  promotions,  no  Revolutions,  no  separations, 
no  horseraces,  nothing  that  constitutes  History.  In  the  first  month 
after  my  arrival  they  talked  of  nothing  but  whether  the  Duchesse  de 
Boufflers  had  the  smallpox  a  second  time  or  not.  Then  they  lived 
nine  or  ten  weeks  upon  the  Dauphin's  death.  They  eked  out  the 
mourning  and  ceremonies  as  long  as  they  coud ;  &  Madame  Geoffrin 
owned  fairly  t'other  night  that  now  there  was  nothing  to  talk  of — how 
much  less  than  nothing  is  there  to  write  of!  Why,  tho'  even  my  Lady 
Berkeley  is  here,  one  has  not  a  word  to  say. 

"  My  life  is  perfectly  French,  &  I  like  it.  I  lie  abed  all  the  morning, 
breakfast,  eat  no  dinner,  visit  after  that  no  dinner,  fix  at  nine  for  the 
evening,  sup,  drink  coffee,  &  sit  up  till  past  two ;  if  I  meet  Madame 
de  Mirepoix,  drink  tea,  &  stay  till  later.  Oh  !  it  is  charming  ;  &, 
what  is  more  delightful,  have  no  House  of  Commons,  which,  however, 
I  liate  less  than  usual  for  its  late  behaviour.  It  will  be  woful  to  return 
to  English  hours,  and  manners,  and  assemblies.  Yet  I  am  not 
ungrateful  for  the  kind  orders  your  Ladyship  gave  to  Lady  Brown  to 

39 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

send  me  back  :  5^et  if  I  coud  transport  j^ou  and  a  few  more,  and  Straw- 
berry, with  all  my  cats  Sc  Dogs,  to  Paris  &  a  mouthfull  of  verdure, 
I  shoud  not  care  if  I  never  returned  again.  The  Duchess  of  Richmond 
is  not  at  all  of  my  mind,  but  very  impatient  to  be  at  home ;  yet  I  do  all 
I  can  to  make  her  happy  by  carrying  her  to  shops  every  day,  &  is 
there  greater  happiness  ?  We  were  at  the  Paris  Marchand  on  new 
year's  eve,  crowded  &  yet  frozen  to  death.  Nobody  liked  it  but  I, 
who,  having  no  terrors  of  gravity  before  my  eyes,  amuse  myself  as 
foolishly  as  I  please  all  day  long.  It  is  pleasant  to  be  in  a  country 
where,  being  connected  with  nobody,  nor  having  relation  to  anything, 
one  is  at  liberty  to  chase  sense  or  nonsense  without  being  torn  to  pieces. 
Nobody  has  any  interest  to  pity  or  blame  one.  As  often  as  I  find  that 
I  am  too  young  to  bear  being  old  I  shall  certainly  whip  over  hither, 
vent  my  vagary,  &  return  perfectly  sober. 

"  All  this  is  upon  the  supposition  that  I  am  not  frozen  to  death  within 
this  week.  The  weather  is  as  cold  as  in  Russia,  and  as  here  they  sup 
with  the  doors  open,  I  am  forced  to  eat  soupe  scalding  hot  to  prevent 
being  converted  into  an  Isicle.  The  theatres  are  shut  up  since  the 
Dauphin's  death — however,  I  don't  hear  that  you  divert  yourselves  better 
in  England.  Your  Operas,  I  am  told,  are  wofull,  &  Almack's  not  a 
jot  liveher  than  it  was  last  winter.  In  short,  I  am  convinced  that 
America  will  soon  be  the  Source  of  all  amusement ;  they  already  write 
libels,  &  laugh  at  your  Parliament.  The  moment  a  party  is  formed 
the  Chiefs  must  divert  their  partizans.  I  wonder  Lord  Temple  does 
not  scramble  over  thither ;  he  woud  have  more  hopes  than  are  left  him 
in  England  ;  but  I  recollect  that  he  is  unluckily  on  the  wrong  side,  or 
we  shoud  have  a  new  Obelisk  at  Stowe,  dedicated  to  some  patriot  at 
Boston.  I  pity  the  ministry  when  George  Grenville  has  got  a  new 
continent  opened  to  harangue  upon.  I  have  long  thought  that  he 
shoud  have  lived  in  Lapland,  where  one  day  lasts  for  six  months. 
Rousseau  set  out  this  morning  for  England.  As  he  loves  to  contradict 
a  whole  Nation,  I  suppose  he  will  write  for  the  present  Opposition. 
Pray  tell  me  if  he  becomes  the  fashion.  As  he  is  to  live  at  Fulham,  I 
hope  his  first  quarrel  will  be  with  his  neighbour  the  Bishop  of  London, 
who  is  an  excellent  subject  for  his  ridicule. 

"  Adieu,  dear  Lady  Mary.  You  see,  I  conceal  none  of  my  Levities, 
but  I  pretend  to  some  merit,  as,  let  me  be  as  fickle  as  I  will,  in  one 
point  I  never  alter. 

"  Y--    most  faithfuU 

"  humble  sert., 

"H.  W." 

Two  months  later,  being  still  an  idler  in  Paris,  Walpole 
wrote  again  to  Lady  Mary,  complaining  that  from  dearth  of 
material  he  was  compelled  to  compose  his  letter  of  "  dabs 

40 


A  GRANDE  DAME— LADY   MARY  COKE 

of  paragraphs  "  ;  but  seeing  that  he  mentions  "  Dr.  Smith," 
who  was  none  other  than  the  afterwards  celebrated  author 
of  "  The  Wealth  of  Nations,"  as  accompanying  her  two 
nephews  in  the  capacity  of  tutor,  and  as  living  in  the  same 
hotel  as  himself,  it  is  much  to  be  wondered  at  that  he  did 
not  favour  his  correspondent  with  a  sketch  of  the  character, 
or  at  least  of  some  of  the  eccentricities,  of  that  remarkable 
man.  It  was  left  to  somebody  else  to  inform  her,  a  year 
later,  that  the  said  Dr.  Adam  Smith  was  "  the  most  absent- 
minded  man  that  ever  was  "  ;  and  she  noted  in  her  journal  an 
amusing  story  about  him  which  was  related  to  her  by  Lady 
George  Lennox.  Mr.  Damer,  it  appears,  called  one  morning 
on  the  Scottish  philosopher  just  as  he  was  preparing  his 
breakfast.  As  they  talked  the  learned  man  took  a  piece  of 
bread-and-butter  in  his  hand,  and,  after  rolling  it  round  and 
round  and  round,  popped  it  into  his  tea-pot  and  poured  the 
boiling  water  upon  it.  Damer  watched  in  quiet  amusement 
without  drawing  attention  to  this  peculiar  proceeding,  and 
presently  he  had  his  reward,  for  when  Adam  Smith  poured 
himself  out  a  cup  of  this  queer  decoction  and  tasted  it,  he 
quite  innocently  remarked  to  his  visitor  that  it  was  the  worst 
tea  he  had  ever  met  with. 

"  Paris, 

"  March  ^rd,  1766. 

"  I  am  thoroughly  concerned,  Dear  Madam,  at  the  account  you  give 
me  of  your  health.  If  you  woud  attend  to  advice  on  that  subject,  I 
woud  tell  you  that  you  harrass  your  mind  &  body.  You  have  not  been 
quite  well  a  long  while,  and  yet  never  take  care  of  yourself  for  two  days 
together.  I  woud  recommend  to  you  to  love  your  friends  less  &  to 
laugh  at  your  Enemies.  The  goodness  of  your  heart  makes  you  too 
attentive  to  both.  For  the  dethroned  Empress"  [he  refers,  perhaps,  to 
the  Princess  Dowager  of  Wales],  "  who,  you  tell  me,  has  been  wanting  in 
regard  to  you,  she  is  surely  below  your  notice.  Rage,  passion,  & 
disappointment  dictate  all  her  actions,  tho'  she  flatters  herself  that  Art 
influences  most  of  them.  Take  care  of  yourself,  &  be  sure  not  to 
have  the  jaundice,  which  is  the  only  thing  in  which  you  can  ever 
resemble  her. 

"  You  do  me  too  much  honour  by  far  in  thinking  that  publicly  or 
privately  I  coud  do  any  good.     I  did  not  leave  England  till  I  found  I 

41 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

coud  not.  I  pressed  what  you  wished,  but  was  not  listened  to.  When 
I  return,  which  will  be  the  end  of  this  month  or  the  beginning  of  next, 
it  will  most  certainly  not  be  to  meddle  with  politics,  of  which  I  washed 
my  hands  for  ever  when  I  came  away.  Your  nephews,  Madam,  & 
Dr.  Smith,  are  coming  into  the  hotel  I  inhabit.  You  may  imagine  that 
their  ages  and  mine  do  not  mate  as  very  proper  companions  ;  but,  as 
far  as  I  can  judge,  you  will  have  uncommon  satisfaction  in  them.  There 
is  a  natural  modesty,  good  nature,  &  good  breeding  in  them,  which  is 
particularly  amiable  in  young  men  of  their  great  rank.  If  their  hearts 
are  not  like  yours,  I  am  much  deceived.  Lord  &  Lady  Fife  are  gone 
to  Holland,  &  fewer  English  than  usual  remain  here.  The  King 
has  been  suddenly  &  unexpectedly  at  the  Parliament  to-day.  I  have 
not  yet  been  out,  nor  know  the  particulars,  but  I  shoud  think  it 
was  on  no  favourable  errand  for  them.  They  have  lately  made 
some  high  remonstrances,  &  three  days  ago  he  sent  for  their 
registers  to  Verseilles.  These  matters,  as  you  may  suppose,  occupy 
them  much,  but  to  me,  accustomed  to  livelier  politics,  they  appear 
flea-bites. 

"  I  have  not  heard  of  Lord  Strafford  this  age,  but  hope  he  received 
my  last  of  January  23rd.  This  is  not  to  extort  a  letter  from  him, 
but  to  put  him  in  mind  of  a  very  sincere,  humble  servant  of  his 
&  Lady  Strafford.  Of  Lady  Suffolk  I  know  still  less.  May  I  beg 
your  Ladyship  to  mention  me  to  her  ;  if  I  knew  a  Syllable  more 
than  is  in  every  gazette,  I  woud  write  to  her ;  &  for  my  life,  it  is  so 
uniform,  it  woud  amuse  nobody.  I  hope  She  is  well,  &  that  Marble 
Hill  &  Strawberry  Hill  will  be  as  good  neighbours  this  summer 
as  ever. 

"  You  see,  Madam,  of  what  dabs  of  paragraphs  I  am  forced  to  com- 
pose my  letter.  It  is  a  better  reason  for  concluding  than  for  continuing 
it ;  but  I  coud  not  resist  returning  my  thanks  for  yours  &  telling  you, 
what  I  trust  you  are  persuaded  of,  that  your  health  is  one  of  my  first 
cares,  and,  I  hope,  will  be  the  first  of  yours. 

"  Y'    most  faithfull 

"  &  devoted  humble  Sert., 

"  HoR.  Walpole." 

It  was  about  this  time,  or  rather  a  Httle  earher,  that 
Walpole  dedicated  to  Lady  Mary  Coke  his  weird  story  of 
"  The  Castle  of  Otranto."  When  he  first  published  it, 
in  December,  1764,  he  passed  it  off  as  a  translation, 
by  **  William  Marshall,  Gent.,"  from  an  Italian  black- 
letter  book  of  1529,  and  almost  everybody  was  imposed 
upon.     But  when  he  found  it  to  be  a  success,  and  a  second 

42 


A  GRANDE  DAME— LADY   MARY  COKE 

edition    was   called  for,    he    admitted    the  authorship,  and 
prefixed    to   it    the   following  lines : — 

"To  THE  Right  Honourable  Lady  Mary  Coke. 

"  The  gentle  maid  whose  hapless  tale 
These  melancholy  pages  speak  ; 
Say,  gracious  lady,  shall  she  fail 

To  draw  the  tear  adown  thy  cheek  ? 

"  No,  never  was  thy  pitying  breast 
Insensible  to  human  woes : 
Tender,  tho'  firm,  it  melts  distrest 
For  weaknesses  it  never  knows. 

"  Oh  I  guard  the  marvels  I  relate 
Of  fell  ambition  scourged  by  fate, 
From  reason's  peevish  blame  ; 
Blest  with  thy  smile,  my  dauntless  sail 
I  dare  expand  to  Fancy's  gale. 
For  sure  thy  smiles  are  Fame." 

Lady  Mary,  as  has  been  remarked  already,  had  little 
taste  or  liking  for  fiction  :  her  fame-conferring  smiles  were 
usually  given  to  blue-books,  or  State  papers,  or  dry-as-dust 
genealogies ;  and,  unfortunately,  her  candid  opinion  of 
"  The  Castle  of  Otranto  "  has  not  been  preserved.  In  the 
autumn  of  1767  Lady  Mary  and  Horace  Walpole  happened 
to  be  once  more  in  Paris  at  the  same  time  ;  but  her  stay  was 
cut  short  by  the  sudden  death  of  Charles  Townshend,  her 
sister  Caroline's  second  husband.  After  her  hurried  journey 
to  England  she  appears  to  have  remembered  to  do  some 
little  service  that  Walpole  had  requested  of  her,  and  conse- 
quently called  forth  the  following  letter  : — 

"  Paris, 

"  Sept.  20th,  1767. 
"  I  am  excessively  thankful,  Dear  Madam,  for  your  most  obliging 
compliance  with  my  request  when  you  was  in  so  melancholy  a  situation. 
I  coud  only  wish  the  letter  had  been  dated  a  few  days  later,  that  I 
might  be  sure  you  have  not  suffered  by  your  hurry,  fatigue,  &  distress. 
I  heartily  grieve  for  all  Mr.  Townshend's  family,  especially  y''  Sister 
&  his  Mother,  the  last  of  whom  I  think  the  least  likely  to  get  over  so 
terrible  a  blow,  considering  her  state  of  health.     I  beg,   when  it  is 

43 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

proper,  you  will  say  something  for  me  to  Lady  Dalkeith,  &  a  great 
deal  to  poor  Lady  Townshend,  if  you  see  her.  I  think  it  too  early  to 
write  ;  but  I  will  wait  on  her  as  soon  as  I  return,  which  will  be  in  a 
fortnight  at  latest.  I  am  very  glad  your  Ladyship's  passage  was  more 
favourable  than  Lady  Mary  Chabot's,  who  was  33  hours  at  Sea,  &  in 
the  utmost  danger.     A  Dutch  vessel  was  lost  very  near  them. 

"  Poor  Mons"'  de  Guerchy  expired  on  Thursday  last.  There  is  a 
House  of  as  great  calamity  as  the  one  you  attend  I  Nothing  else  has 
happened  here  since  you  left  us,  nor,  indeed,  I  think,  ever  does,  except 
deaths,  marriages,  &  promotions.  To  my  great  joy,  the  Prince  of 
Conti  is  gone  to  Lisle  Adam  with  all  his  strolling  Court,  &  I  have  not 
once  seen  him.  I  dined  with  Lady  Rochford  at  the  Duchesse 
d'Aguillou's  on  Wednesday  last.  The  views  are  fine,  excepting  the 
want  of  verdure,  &  the  garden,  like  all  their  gardens,  seems  to 
be  in  no  keeping.  On  Friday  we  dined  at  Mr.  Wood's  at  Meudon, 
where  the  prospect  is  much  finer,  but  his  House  is  a  perfect  ruin,  like 
an  old  banqueting  House  at  the  End  of  an  old-fashioned  garden. 

"  The  Duke  of  York  has  had  a  violent  fever  at  Monaco,  but  I  think  is 
reckoned  out  of  danger.  The  Prince  has  paid  him  great  attention  ;  so 
great  that  he  has  put  off  a  journey  to  the  Due  de  Choiseul's  at 
Canteloupe.     What  can  a  Frenchman  do  more  ? 

"  Lord  March  &  George  Selwyn  arrived  this  morning,  &  I  expect 
them  every  minute.     L^   Algernon  Percy  is  here  too. 

"  As  I  may  set  out  sooner  than  I  have  mentioned,  I  do  not  know, 
Madam,  whether  you  will  trust  me  with  any  commissions.  But  my 
acquaintance  here  is  so  established,  both  with  Friends  and  Shops,  that 
I  can  easily  get  anything  executed  after  my  return  to  England. 

"  Forgive  me,  dear  Lady  Mary,  if  I  conclude  this  letter  of  scraps.  I 
can  tell  you  nothing  from  hence  worth  writing.  Suppers  are  all  the 
events,  and,  as  you  know,  seldom  lively. 

"  Your  most  faithfull 

"  &  devoted  humble  Sert., 

"HoR.  Walpole." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  this  letter  of  scraps,  which  he  thought 
scarce  worth  writing,  contained  one  item  of  news  which  to 
Lady  Mary  was  of  momentous  import,  viz.,  the  dangerous 
illness  of  the  Duke  of  York  at  Monaco,  for  ever  since  1758, 
when  she  was  thirty-two  and  the  Prince  nineteen,  she  had 
carried  on  what,  on  her  part  at  least,  was  a  very  serious 
flirtation  with  him.  Edward,  Duke  of  York,  was  the  greatest 
fool  (which  is  saying  a  good  deal)  of  all  the  brothers  of 
George  the  Third.     He  had,  we  are  told,  a  mean  little  form, 

44 


A  GRANDE  DAME— LADY   MARY  COKE 

a  pale  face,  white  eyelashes  and  eyebrows,  and  a  certain 
tremulous  motion  of  the  eyes  which  made  him  look  as  silly 
as — he  really  was.  For,  in  addition  to  being  a  heartless 
libertine,  he  was  a  stupid  chatterer,  whose  giddiness  as  well 
as  profligacy  did  more  to  bring  royalty  into  discredit  than 
even  the  calamitous  mistakes  of  his  brother  who  sat  on  the 
throne.  Even  a  prince,  it  may  be  presumed,  is  capable  of 
being  flattered  by  the  attentions  and  the  undisguised  admira- 
tion of  a  handsome  woman  ;  but,  however  this  may  be,  Prince 
Edward  was  quite  ready  to  make  love  to  Lady  Mary  Coke — 
in  the  only  fashion  which  he  ever  knew  anything  about.  But 
she  was  very  careful  of  her  reputation,  and  managed  to  keep 
him  on  a  footing  that  gave  no  loophole  for  anything  in  the 
shape  of  the  ordinary  scandal.  Then,  it  appears,  the  young 
scapegrace  took  to  making  fun  of  her  behind  her  back, 
diverting  his  family  and  certain  intimates  of  the  Court  with 
accounts  of  her  strict  propriety  combined  with  amatory 
encouragement  and  of  her  evident  desire  to  entangle  him  in 
the  bonds  of  holy  matrimony.  He  corresponded  with  her 
when  he  was  abroad,  and  she  carefully  preserved  all  his 
letters ;  but  she  seems  to  have  read  into  them  something 
which  was  not  there,  for  the  Princess  Amelia  and  others 
to  whom  they  were  afterwards  shown  all  agreed  that  they 
were  merely  such  letters  as  any  man  might  have  written  to 
any  lady  of  his  acquaintance.  When,  however,  she  heard 
the  "  terrible "  news  of  his  death,  towards  the  end  of 
September,  1767,  her  grief  was  extremely  ostentatious.  She 
shut  herself  up  at  Sudbrook  alone  for  several  days,  trying  to 
avoid  everybody  but  the  Princess  Amelia.  The  Duchess  of 
Norfolk  grievously  offended  her  by  mentioning  the  "  terrible  " 
event  in  an  indifferent  manner;  and  although  her  sister 
Caroline  showed  "great  goodness  and  humanity"  by 
sympathising  with  her  bereavement,  her  other  sisters  as 
well  as  most  of  her  acquaintances  exhibited  great  heartless- 
ness,  Lady  Strafford  by  speaking  of  the  "terrible"  event  as 
calmly  and  indifferently  as  the  Duchess  of  Norfolk  had  done, 

45 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

and  Lady  Betty  Mackenzie  by  not  referring  to  it  at  all  1 
These  sisters  never  afterwards  occupied  the  same  place  in 
her  affections  as  Caroline  did  ;  and  to  the  end  of  her  days  she 
cherished  a  degree  of  animosity  against  the  Duchess  of  Bruns- 
wick, the  Duchess  of  Hamilton,  Lady  Susan  Stewart,  and 
some  others  who  were  outspoken  enough  to  pooh-pooh  her 
pretensions  of  a  particular  relation  to  the  late  royal  Duke. 
The  first  time  she  met  Princess  Amelia  after  receipt  of  the 
"  terrible  "  news  she  burst  into  tears.  The  Princess  affected  to 
believe  that  she  was  distressed  about  some  other  matter,  but 
when  Lady  Mary,  not  taking  the  hint,  insisted  on  explaining 
that  she  was  weeping  for  the  Duke  of  York,  her  Royal  Highness 
bluntly  said,  "  If  you  did  but  know  what  a  joke  he  always 
made  of  you,  you  would  soon  leave  off  crying  for  him."  But 
she  could  not  leave  off  crying  for  a  long  time.  Her  journal 
is  full  of  entries  on  the  subject.  The  fancied  sounds  of  the 
firing  of  guns  and  the  tolling  of  bells  were  in  her  ears  day 
after  day.  Night  after  night  she  dreamt  she  was  in  West- 
minster Abbey  at  the  funeral  ;  day  after  day  she  waited  (in 
vain,  of  course)  for  his  servants  to  bring  her  some  message  ; 
for  it  seemed  incredible  to  her  that  the  Duke  could  have  died 
without  having  her  in  his  mind  at  the  last  moment  ;  and 
after  the  funeral  she  went  down  into  the  vault  in  West- 
minster Abbey  to  weep  and  pray  beside  the  coffin.  Her 
friends  evidently  got  sick  of  it,  and  kept  out  of  her  way,  for 
she  complains  of  being  all  alone  in  her  house  at  Netting  Hill 
for  eight  weeks,  and  during  that  time  having  seen  only  five 
people.  Her  sister  Caroline  believed,  or  affected  to  believe, 
that  Lady  Mary  and  the  Duke,  if  not  privately  married,  had 
at  least  been  definitely  betrothed  ;  but  there  is  not  a  shred  of 
evidence  for  any  such  belief.  Nevertheless  for  some  time 
afterwards  she  assumed  something  of  the  air  of  a  royal  widow, 
so  that  the  Duchess  of  Brunswick  joked  about  "  our  sister 
Mary " ;  and  her  unfounded  pretensions  excited  general 
laughter.  But  she  persisted,  for  as  late  as  ten  or  twelve 
years    afterwards   Walpole,   whom    by   that    time   she   had 

46 


A   GRANDE   DAME— LADY   MARY   COKE 

quarrelled  with  irreconcilably,  tells  one  of  his  correspondents 
that  the  absurdities  of  "  her  Royal  Highness,"  as  he  took 
to  calling  her,  were  still  the  theme  of  satirical  animadversion. 

"  Marie  d,  la  Coqtte  "  \_i.e.,  Lady  Mary]  "  has  had  an  outrageous  quarrel 
with  Miss  Pelham  on  politics,  or  rather  at  Miss  Pelham,  who  did  not 
reply.  This  occasioned  Lady  Mary's  notes  being  mentioned,  which  she 
signs  as  Duchess  of  York  '  Marye '  (the  c  passing  for  a  flourish)  if 
you  do  not  go  to  law  with  her.  On  this  Burke  said  to  Miss  P. :  '  Upon 
my  word,  you  will  be  a  match  for  her  if  you  sign  '  Francess  P.'" 

Unfortunately  for  Lady  Mary's  peace  of  mind,  about  two 
years  after  the  death  of  the  Duke  of  York  the  Duke  of 
Gloucester  married  Lady  Waldegrave,  the  illegitimate 
daughter  of  Sir  Robert  Walpole,  and  shortly  after  that  the 
Duke  of  Cumberland  married  Mrs.  Horton,  neither  of  these 
ladies,  of  course,  being  so  highly  born  as  a  daughter  of  the 
Duke  of  Argyll,  and  both  of  them,  curiously  enough,  being 
widows.  Then,  says  Lady  Louisa  Stuart,  Lady  Mary 
"  foamed  at  the  mouth,"  not  so  much  because  these  royal 
dukes  had  married  beneath  them,  as  because  another  royal 
duke  had  neglected  to  marry  her.  This  was  intolerable ; 
and  so,  shaking  the  dust  of  the  English  Court  from  her  feet 
(for  a  time !),  she  betook  herself  to  the  more  congenial 
atmosphere  of  the  Courts  of  Germany. 

Before  this  happened,  however,  she  had  had  a  pleasant 
jaunt  to  the  south  of  France,  and  had  also  had  a 
curious  proposal  of  marriage.  The  proposal  came  about  as 
follows.  On  Sunday,  May  15th,  1768,  she  dined  at  Lord 
Bessborough's,  whose  house  she  reports  as  magnificent  and 
more  crowded  with  fine  things  than  any  house  she  had  ever 
seen.  When  Lord  Bessborough  had  shown  her  all  the  rooms, 
and  she  had  admired  everything  as  it  deserved,  he  turned  to 
her  and  said  simply,  "  I  wish.  Madam,  you  would  consent  to 
become  the  mistress  of  it."  She  took  this  for  a  jest,  and 
laughingly  replied  that  she  was  much  obliged  to  him.  But 
when  Lord  and  Lady  Strafford  joined  them.  Lord 
Bessborough  repeated  his  proposal   and   asked   them  what 

47 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

they  thought  of  it,  whereupon  Lady  Strafford  said  gravely 
that  in  her  opinion,  if  her  sister  intended  marr5nng,  she  could 
not  do  better.  "  I  am  afraid  she  does  not  think  so,"  replied 
Lord  Bessborough.  "  It  appears  to  her  too  ridiculous  to 
make  an  answer  to  it ;  I  am  thirt}''  years  too  old,  I  suppose." 
What  answer  Lady  Mary  then  made  she  does  not  tell  us,  but 
she  notes  in  her  journal  that  it  surprised  her  to  find  her  sister 
taking  the  matter  seriously,  for,  if  she  had  any  matrimonial 
intentions,  she  might  certainly  expect  to  do  much  better  than 
Lord  Bessborough.  But  she  had  no  such  intentions,  being 
"too  much  attached  to  the  memory  of  the  person  who  is  gone 
to  think  of  any  other  engagement."  Lord  Bessborough,  it 
may  be  remarked  in  passing,  continued  to  cherish  matri- 
monial intentions,  although  after  this  he  seems  to  have  been 
shy  of  offering  himself  to  any  lady  very  much  his  junior.  A 
couple  of  years  later,  when  the  last  of  his  daughters  was  about 
to  be  married,  Princess  Amelia  suggested  that  he  might  like 
Lady  Anne  Howard  for  a  second  wife,  in  order  not  to  be  left 
quite  alone,  whereupon  he  promptly  replied  that  there  was 
too  much  difference  in  their  ages.  But  he  added,  with  a 
low  bow,  that,  if  her  Royal  Highness  would  accept  of  him  for 
a  husband,  the  ages  would  agree  better.  The  Princess  was 
so  tickled  with  this  quaint  and  unexpected  proposal  that  she 
laughed  till  she  could  hardly  stand.  Then,  recovering  her 
composure,  she  replied  pleasantly,  "  My  good  lord,  if  I  were 
to  become  Lady  Bessborough,  I  am  afraid  Lady  Mary  Coke  " 
(who  was  then  present)  "  would  never  cover  her  steps  with 
carpets  to  receive  me."  "Pardon  me.  Madam,"  rejoined  the 
old  lord,  taking  it  all  quite  seriously,  "  your  Royal  Highness 
would  keep  your  rank,  and  I  should  agree  that  you  keep  your 
fortune,  only  desiring  to  be  excused  settling  a  jointure." 
Whereat,  of  course,  there  was  more  merriment,  and  the  only 
satisfaction  poor  Lord  Bessborough  got  was  to  hear  his  pro- 
posal related  by  the  Princess  as  a  capital  joke  when  the  rest 
of  her  company  arrived. 

During  the  course  of  her  journey  through  the  south  of 

48 


A   GRANDE  DAME—LADY   MARY   COKE 

France  Lady  Mary  had  written  home  to  one  of  her  sisters 
inquiring  what  had  become  of  Mr.  Walpole.  Her  still 
dutiful  knight  accordingly  responded  as  follows  : — 

"  Arlington  Street, 

"Dec.  i^-th,  1769. 
"Lady  Betty  Mackinsy  "  {sic)  "tells  me,  Madam,  that  you  have 
asked  what  is  become  of  me,  and  why  nobody  mentions  me.  I  cannot 
wonder  why  they  do  not,  but  I  am  extremely  flattered  with  your 
Inquiring.  When  one  is  far  from  being  a  novelty,  or  when  one  creates 
no  novelties,  one  is  easily  forgotten  in  such  a  World  as  London.  I 
write  no  libels,  want  no  place,  and  occasion  no  divorce.  What  right 
have  I  then  to  occupy  a  paragraph  in  a  letter  ?  Quiet  virtues  or  small 
faults  are  drowned  in  the  noise  &  nonsense  of  the  times.  But  this  is 
more  than  was  necessary.  I  hope  it  will  procure  me  a  considerable 
return  of  information  about  yourself,  Lady  Mary.  I  hear  you  have 
seen  Voltaire  &  learned  many  particulars  about  Madame  de  Sevigne 
&  the  Grignans.  I  am  ready  to  print  all  you  shall  impart.  If  any 
Draughtsmen  grow  in  that  part  of  the  World,  pray  bring  over  a  drawing 
of  Grignan.  You  shoud  visit  Avignon  &  inquire  after  the  good  King 
Rend,  the  father  of  Margaret  of  Anjou,  &  his  portrait  &  his 
paintings ;  and  you  must  read  the  Life  of  Petrarch  in  3  quartos,  & 
make  a  pilgrimage  to  the  Sainte  Baume  "  [a  cave  reputed  to  be  the 
scene  of  Mary  Magdalene's  penance].  "These  journies  will  amuse  you 
more  than  Aix.  Then  you  may  learn  all  you  can  about  the  Parliament 
of  Love  &  the  Proven9al  Poets.  Such  pursuits  are  much  more 
amusing  than  Intendants  &  Intendantes,  &  their  awkward  imitations 
of  the  manners  of  Paris.  I  do  not  attempt  to  tell  you  any  news,  as 
your  sisters  are  such  excellent  correspondents.  Lady  Strafford  looks 
particularly  well.  Lady  Ailesbury,  I  think,  quite  recovered.  Our  box 
is  rarely  inhabited,  the  two  last  being  but  just  arrived  &  your  Sister 
ready  to  return.  The  Operas  are  commended  and  deserted.  I  desert 
but  cannot  commend  them.  Lady  Betty  Germain,  I  shoud  think, 
wou'd  be  dead  before  you  can  receive  this.  Our  Loo  parties  are 
receiving  a  great  loss  by  the  departure  of  Mello "  [the  Portuguese 
Minister],  "  who  is  suddenly  recalled  to  fill  a  chief  place  in  the  Ministry, 
on  the  death  of  Monsieur  d'Oyras's  brother.  Everybody  regrets  him, 
&  he  I  believe  will  regret  us.  Madame  du  Chatelet  is  returned  with 
her  husband  ;  but  take  notice,  Madam,  I  do  not  announce  this  to  you  as 
good  news.  Such  a  scanty  letter  as  this  is  scarce  worth  sending  so  far, 
yet  as  it  is  embalmed  in  gratitude,  I  trust  it  will  keep  sweet.  A  month 
hence  there  will  be  news  enough,  but  as  there  will  probably  be  none 
that  will  do  us  honour,  I  am  rather  glad  to  write  during  the  least 
interval  of  folly.     One  does  not  blush  while  one's  letter  is  opened  at  a 

N.D.  49  E 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

foreign  bureau.  Poor  Mrs.  Harris,  though  out  of  danger,  does  not 
recover  her  strength.  She  spoke  to  me  in  the  warmest  terms  t'other 
night  of  your  Ladyship's  goodness  to  her.  I  hope  you  are  well  guarded 
with  James's  powders.  When  I  have  so  little  to  say  for  myself,  you 
will  not  wonder,  Madam,  nobody  said  anything  for  me,  but  I  could  not 
help  expressing  my  obligations  &  assuring  you  that 

"  I  am  always 

"  Lady  Mary's 

"  Most  devoted 
"  humble  sert., 

»  HoR.  Walpole." 

Whether  or  not  she  answered  Walpole's   questions  and 
gave  him  any  account  of  the  celebrated  people  and  places 
she  had  seen  does  not  appear ;  but  in  a  letter  to  one  of  her 
sisters  she  gives  an  account  of  her  visit  to  Voltaire.     He 
was  then  seventy-five  years  of  age,  and  living  quietly  at  his 
retreat   at    Ferney.       He   paid   his   compliment   to   her   in 
English,  and  spoke  of  her  father  in  terms  of  high  approba- 
tion.    Then  he  insisted  on  showing  her  his  garden,  although 
she  protested  against  this,  because,  as  she  declares,  he  was 
attired  only  "  in  a  flowered  silk  waistcoat  and  nightgown,  a 
dark  periwig  without  powder,  slippers,  and  a  cap  in  his  hand." 
Having  duly  inspected  the  garden,  she  came  in  to  breakfast 
with  him,  and,  after  staying  altogether  an  hour  and  a  half, 
came  away  very  well  satisfied  with  her  reception. 

It  was  in  the  year  following  this  that  she  determined  to 
visit  the  Empress-Queen,  Maria  Theresa,  at  Vienna,  and 
Walpole,  who  had  been  ill  and  unable  to  see  her  for  some 
little    time    previously,    wrote   her   the   following    satirical 

farewell : — 

"  Monday  Evening,  Sept.  24th,  1770. 
"  It  was  a  thorough  mortification,  dear  Lady  Mary,  not  to  see  your 
Ladyship  yesterday  when  you  was  so  very  good  to  call;  &  it  was  no 
small  one  not  to  be  able  to  answer  your  note  this  morning.  My  relapse 
I  believe  was  owing  to  the  very  sudden  change  of  Weather.  However 
it  has  humbled  me  so  much  that  I  shall  readily  obey  your  commands 
&  be  much  more  careful  of  not  catching  cold  again.  If  it  is  possible 
I  shall  remove  to  London  before  you  set  out ;  if  it  is  not,  I  wish  you 
health,  happiness,  &  amusement — &,  may  I  say,  a  surfeit  of  travelling. 

50 


A   GRANDE   DAME— ^LADY   MARY   COKE 

I  am  glad  you  cannot  go  &  visit  the  Ottoman  Emperor  &  I  have 
too  good  an  opinion  of  you  to  think  you  will  visit  the  Northern 
Fury.  If  after  this  journey  you  will  not  stay  at  home  with  us,  I  protest 
I  will  have  a  painted  oil-cloth  hung  at  your  Door,  with  an  account  of  your 
having  been  shown  to  the  Emperor  of  Germany  &  the  Lord  knows 
how  many  other  Potentates.  Welljl  Madam,  make  haste  back  ;  you  see 
how  fast  I  grow  old;  I  shall  not  be  a  very  creditable  Lover  long,  nor  able 
to  drag  a  chain  that  is  heavier  than  that  of  your  watch.  Yet  while  a 
shadow  of  me  lasts  I  will  glide  after  you  with  friendly  wishes,  &  put 
you  in  mind  of  the  Attachment  of 

"  Y"^  most  faithfull  Slave, 

"HoR.  Walpole," 

This,  the  first  of  her  visits  to  Vienna,  was  highly  successfuh 
The  Emperor  Joseph  was  courteous  to  her,  and  his  mother, 
Maria  Theresa,  made  much  of  her  while  she  was  there,  and 
before  she  left  granted  her  a  private  audience,  and  presented 
her  with  a  fine  medallion  set  with  jewels.  Count  Seilern, 
who  had  known  her  when  he  was  ambassador  in  England, 
Prince  Kaunitz,  the  Prime  Minister,  the  Thuns,  the  Lichten- 
steins,  and  the  Esterhazys,  all  entertained  her  magnificently, 
so  that  on  her  return  she  had  a  great  deal  that  was  both 
interesting  and  instructive  to  report.  Unfortunately  she  did 
it  in  so  pompous  a  manner,  and  paraded  so  ostentatiously 
her  intimacy  with  these  illustrious  personages,  that  people 
were  forced  to  laugh  at  an  exhibition  such  as  might  have 
been  expected  of  the  daughter  of  a  beknighted  tallow- 
chandler,  but  was  unaccountable  in  a  daughter  of  the  great 
Duke  of  Argyll.  Horace  Walpole  seems  to  have  anticipated 
something  of  this  kind,  for  while  she  was  there  he  addressed 
to  her  an  apology  for  his  dilatoriness  as  a  correspondent  in 
the  following  humorous  strain : — 

"  Arlington   Street, 

^^  Jan.  2'jth,  1 77 1. 

"  I  am  extremely  flattered,  dear  Lady  Mary,  by  your  sisters  telling  me 
that  you  complain  of  my  silence — alas !  I  thought,  surrounded  by 
Emperors  and  Empresses,  you  could  not  think  of  or  care  for  the  letters 
of  such  little  mortals  as  L  I  imagined  that  I  must  write  to  you  with  all 
the  formality  of  the  Aulic  Chamber.  I  had  begun  an  Epistle  &  put 
myself  into  one  of  Count  Seilern's  most  exalted  attitudes,  but  my  words 

51  E  2 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

came  so  slow  that  I  should  not  have  finished  before  I  hope  you  will 
return.     By  your  kind  reproof  I  trust  you  will  allow  me  to  descend  from 
my  Austrian  buskins,  &  write  in  my  usual  style.     I  am  [not],  nor  ever 
can  be,  altered  towards  your  Ladyship  ;  but  truth  is,   I  feared  your 
being  become  at  least  an  Archduchess,  &  did  not  know,  which  would 
be  a  thousand  pities,  but  your  fair  nose  might  have  risen  half  an  Inch, 
and  your  lips,  which  could  never  mend,  have  dropped  and  pouted  with 
prodigious  dignity  at  being  addressed  with  a  familiarity  unknown  to  the 
House  of  Hapsburg.     I  am  transported  with  finding  you  still  the  same, 
&  cou'd   now   almost  trust  you  with   the   baneful  influence    of    the 
Czarina.     However,  pray  never  think  of  making  her  a  visit  too.     You 
have  travelled  enough,  &  ought  to  have  the  Magi  come  to  see  you, 
instead   of  wandering  yourself  after   every    Star.      I  do  not  pretend, 
Madam,  to  tell  you  news,  for  Lady  Strafford  &  Lady  Greenwich  leave 
none  untold.     One  article  rejoices  me  greatly,  the  peace  with  Spain.     I 
do  not  wish  to  conquer  the  world  every  ten  years  !     Events  happen  here 
so  daily  that  we   do  not  want  battles  &  sieges  for  conversation  ;   & 
yet  I  think   Politics  are  likely  to  grow  a  little  drowsy.     The  deaths  of 
Mr.  Grenville  &  the  Duke  of  Bedford  have  left  Lord  North  in  full 
Security.      L''  Temple   takes  no   more  part,    and   they   say  is    even 
quarrelled  with  L'^  Chatham.     Wilkes  &  Parson  Home  have  a  civil 
War  between  themselves,   &   nobody  insists   upon  one's  lighting  up 
candles  for  either.    Loo  begins  to  yield  to  Quinze — Oh  1  I  had  forgotten  : 
there  are  desperate  Wars  between  the  Opera  in  the  Haymarket  &  that 
at  Mrs.  Cornely's.     There  was  a  negociation  yesterday  for  a  union,  but 
I  do  not  know  what  answer  the  definitive  Courier  has  brought.     All  I 
know  is  that  Guadagni  is  much  more  haughty  than  the  King  of  Castille 
Arragon,  Leon,  Granada,  etc.  In  the  meantime  King  Hobart  is  starving  ; 
&  if  the  junction  takes  place  his  children  must  starve,  for  he  must  pay 
the  expenses  of  both  Theatres.    The  Ladies'  Club — Oh  1  but  you  are  one 
of  the  profane  &  must  not  be  acquainted  with  our  mysteries,  yet  you 
must  respect  them,  for  Mons'^  de  Belgioioso  "  [Count  Seilern's  successor 
as  imperial  ambassador]  "  is  one  of  our  new  members.     He  is  a  sensible 
good  sort  of  man,  &  has  not  half  the  paste   board  about  him   that 
Seilern  had.     You  will  like  Mons'  de  Guisnes  too,  who  is  very  civil  & 
modest,  and  has  none  of  the  agreeable  peevishness  of  his  Predecessor, 
nor  the  charming  indifference  of  his  Predecessoress.     What  do  you  say 
at  Vienna  to  Mons'  de   Choiseul's  fall,  &  when  will  your  neighbour 
Mustapha  3rd  be  sent  in  chains  to  Petersburg  ?     Is  the  Dauphiness 
breeding,  or  are  you  angry  she  is  not  ?     Plays,  at  least  scenes,  thrive  ex- 
ceedingly.    There  is  a  farce  at  Covent  Garden  called  Mother  Shipton 
that    has    a    million    of    pretty    Landscapes   &   Temples   of  Ruby  & 
Emerald.     Garrick  has  revived  Dryden's  King  Arthur  with  some  good 
Scenery ;  unluckily,  for  a  Heathen  Temple  he  has  produced  a  Gothic 
Cathedral,  in  which  the  Devil  happens  to  be  the  principal  performer  ; 

52 


A   GRANDE   DAME— L.ADY   MARY   COKE 

and  then  Purcell's  venerable  music  is  squalled  in  imitation  of  modern 
singing,  till  one's  ears  don't  know  it  by  sight.  He  has  got  a  Tragedy  too, 
translated  from  Voltaire's  Tancrede  by  Madame  Celesia,  Mallet's 
daughter,  which  takes,  tho'  very  middling ;  and  a  sentimental  comedy 
called  The  West  Indian  by  Mr.  Cumberland,  that  is  quite  ravishing; 
at  least  so  they  say,  but  I  have  not  had  time  yet  to  go  and  be  ravished. 
I  do  not  know  that  we  have  a  single  new  book,  except  one  or  two 
political  pamphlets,  that  nobody  reads  but  the  Common  Council  that 
cannot  read.  Lord  Huntington"  [late  Groom  of  the  Stole]  "is  going 
abroad,  not,  like  your  Ladyship,  to  see  Kings  and  Queens,  but  because  he 
has  fewer  opportunities  of  seeing  them  than  he  had.  Lord  Shelburne  is 
going  too,  on  the  loss  of  his  wife,  &  Lord  Grantham  to  Spain.  I  have 
not  heard  who  is  to  succeed  the  last  as  Vice-Chamberlain.  The  worst 
and  the  best  news  I  can  tell  you  is,  that  you  &  I,  Madam,  have  been 
very  near  losing  our  Princess,  &  that  she  is  perfectly  well  again. 
I  am  to  play  there  to-morrow,  but  our  Loo  is  reduced  to  half-crowns. 
You  have  heard,  I  suppose,  that  on  account  of  her  Deafness,  she  goes  no 
more  to  Court,  &  is  to  have  no  more  Drawing  rooms.  This  sketch  of 
everything  will,  I  hope,  atone  a  little  for  my  past  omissions,  and  yet 
why  should  I  expect  it  ?  You  are  a  wanderer,  Lady  Mary,  like  Cain, 
&  seem  not  to  care  for  your  own  Country.  You  would  have  liked  it 
better,  I  believe,  during  the  Heptarchy,  when  we  had  more  Kings  and 
Queens  than  there  are  in  a  pack  of  cards.  If  you  should  ever  write 
your  Travels,  &  like  Baron  Polnitz  give  a  full  account  of  all  the 
gracious  Sovereigns  upon  Earth,  I  flatter  myself  you  will  honour  the 
Strawberry  Press  with  them.  I  promise  you  they  shall  be  printed  on 
the  best  Imperial  paper.  It  is  employed  at  present  on  the  last  volume 
of  my  Anecdotes  of  Painting,  which  do  not  deserve  better  than  quires 
of  foolscap.  May  I  trouble  your  Ladyship  with  my  compliments  to  Lord 
Stormont  ?  I  am  just  going  to  Lady  Ailesbury,  &  as  I  conclude  I  shall 
meet  Lady  Strafford  there,  I  must  finish  my  letter  that  I  may  trouble 
her  to  send  it — but  the  Length  indeed  is  all  I  ought  to  make  excuses  for. 

"  I  am.  Madam, 

"  Your  Ladyship's 

"  abandoned  but  ever 

"  faithfull  &  devoted  Knight, 
"  Horace  Walpole." 

Lady  Mary  considered  the  foregoing  a  "  delightful  "  letter  ; 

but  she  remarks  in  her  journal  that  she  is  sorry  Mr.  Walpole 

thinks  her  to  be  an  admirer  of  kings  and  queens  "independent 

of  their  r  erit,"  for  she  can  assure  him  (and  everybody  else) 

that  great  stations  never  dazzle  her  or  blind  her  judgment, 

and  the  sole  reason  why  she  is  more  pleased  to  see  eminent 

53 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

virtues  in  people  of  supreme  rank  than  in  those  of  lower 
degree  is  that  the  influence  of  those  in  high  places  is  so  much 
more  extensive.  But  Walpole  knew  better ;  and  he  never 
lost  an  opportunity  of  chaffing  her  about  her  infatuation. 
When  she  invited  him  to  spend  a  day  with  her  at  her  Notting 
Hill  villa  in  June  of  the  same  year,  she  was  already  talking 
of  a  second  visit  to  Vienna ;  and  his  acceptance  of  the 
invitation  was  framed  accordingly. 

"Strawberry  Hill, 

'■'■June  gth,  1771. 
"  You  cannot  imagine,  Dear  Madam,  how  much  I  am  flattered  with 
receiving  your  orders  to  pass  a  whole  day  with  you,  tho'  I  have  not, 
that  I  know  of,  a  drop  of  Austrian  blood  in  my  veins.  It  is  true 
Charlemagne  was  my  Grandfather,  by  a  Courtenay  that  married  some- 
body from  whom  I  am  descended,  but  I  hope  you  had  not  that  match  in 
your  eye,  but  graciously  invited  me  without  considering  that  I  am  but  a 
thousand  years  off  from  being  a  sort  of  Prince.  I  shall  obey  your 
Commands  with  more  submission  &  Satisfaction  than  if  your 
Ladyship's  name  was  Teresa  as  well  as  Mary.  You  are  Goddess 
enough  for  me,  &  I  shall  never  pilgrimize  to  Vienna  to  see  a 
greater  Lady.  I  wish  you  was  as  much  content  with  your  own 
Dignity.  A  wise  Lady  should  make  such  a  progress  but  once ;  no 
more  than  the  Wise  men.  I  doubt  even  whether  they  would  have 
retained  that  character,  if  they  had  danced  after  the  same  star  year 
after  year.  It  is  the  Emperor's  turn  to  come  after  your  Ladyship. 
Can  we  expect  him,  if  you  carry  to  him  what  is  most  worth  seeing 
in  England  ?  or  will  he  come  if  you  are  to  return  to  Vienna  ?  Nay,  he 
does  not  deserve  your  visit,  when  he  has  a  vacant  throne  to  offer 
you,  &  yet  lets  you  slip  out  of  his  hands.  There  is  not  an  instance 
in  Romance  of  such  neglect.  Do  you  think  any  consideration  upon 
earth  would  have  determined  Berenice  to  return  to  Rome  after  Titus 
had  been  so  weak  &  ill  bred  as  to  suffer  her  to  depart  ?  Shall  the 
Duke  of  Argyll's  daughter  run  up  &  down  Europe  like  the  Wandering 
Jew?  Chuse  your  Kingdom  &  reign  there,  &  tho'  I  shall  certainly 
die  of  it,  I  wish  you  settled  and  crowned  once  for  all.  Your  glory  is  still 
dearer  to  me  than  Loo  at  Notting  Hill,  &  even  than  all  my  rash 
hopes.  For  your  sake  I  would  sacrifice  my  darling  view  of  tending  a 
few  sheep  with  you  on  our  two  hills,  but  I  cannot  bear  to  see  you 
return  so  often  without  a  Diadem.  '  Or  Caesar  or  nothing,'  said  Borgia  : 
'  Be  Caesar's  wife  or  mine,'  say  I.  Caesar  has  not  done  his  Part.  My 
heart  is  still  at  your  Service,  but  I  am  off  if  you  offer  it  to  Cssar  once 
more.     Nay  I  will  not  be  pacified,  tho'  you  shou'd  pretend  the  visit  is 

54 


A  GRANDE  DAME— LADY   MARY  COKE 

only  to  his  Mother.     If  you  think  of  Vienna  again,  I  marry  Madame  du 
Deffand,  &  will  no  longer  be 

"  Your  Ladyship's 

"  Constant  and 

"  Eternal  Adorer, 
"  HoR.  Walpole." 

Lady  Mary  described  this  amusing  epistle  as  the  most 
"  rediculous  "  letter  she  had  ever  read ;  but  the  notion  that 
she  might  captivate  and  marry  the  Emperor  Joseph  was  by 
no  means  so  "  rediculous  "  to  her  mind  as  it  was  to  that  of 
the  humorous  writer.  She  sent  the  letter  to  her  brother-in- 
law,  Lord  Strafford,  ostensibly  because  she  thought  it  would 
amuse  him,  but  really,  perhaps,  because  she  was  half  disposed 
to  think  the  suggestion  about  the  Emperor  offering  her  a 
vacant  throne  might  have  an  element  of  prophecy  in  it. 
Walpole's  banter  often  contained  very  sound  advice,  and  she 
would  have  done  better  if  she  had  taken  to  heart  that  other 
part  of  the  letter  in  which  he  tried  to  dissuade  her  from 
dancing  after  the  same  star  again  and  again  ;  and  he  seems 
to  have  repeated  this  advice  on  the  occasion  of  another 
visit  to  Netting  Hill,  for  she  notes  in  her  journal  that  one 
day  an  unexpected  coach  stopped  at  her  door,  out  of  which 
came  Mr.  Walpole  and  his  dog.  He  had  evidently  come  on 
purpose  to  scold  her  for  intending  to  return  to  Vienna. 
When  that  was  over,  however,  as  she  slily  observes,  he  asked 
her  more  questions  about  the  Empress,  etc.,  than  anybody 
else  had  ever  done  ;  and  she  adds  in  conclusion,  "  Has  he 
any  reason  to  complain  of  my  going  to  Vienna  when  he  is 
going  to  Paris  ? — sets  out  the  beginning  of  next  month,  and 
stays  six  weeks."  Anyway,  her  resolution  was  fixed;  and 
on  September  4th  she  set  out  on  her  second  visit  to  the 
Court  of  the  Empress-Queen.  Before  she  left  England, 
however,  she  received  from  Walpole,  who  was  then  in  Paris, 
a  lively  account  of  an  interesting  scientific  experiment,  of 
which  presumably  he  had  been  an  eye-witness.  According 
to  the  Annual  Register  for  1771,  this  experiment  was  made, 
in  the  presence  of  a  considerable  number  of  persons  of  both 

55 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

sexes,  in  the  laboratory  of  Monsieur  Rouelle,  a  physician  and 

member  of  the  Royal  Academy  of  France.     This  was  some 

four  or  five  years  before  Lavoisier  proved  the  diamond  to 

consist  of  pure  carbon  by  burning  it  in  oxygen  and  collecting 

the  carbon  dioxide  gas  which  it  formed.     Walpole's  account 

of    the  matter,  which  greatly  entertained  her,  though  she 

very  ineptly  describes  it  by  her  favourite  phrase  of  "  most 

rediculous,"  is  as  follows  : — 

"  Paris, 

"Aug.  22nd,  1 771. 
"  I  never  trouble  your  Ladyship  with  common  news.  The  little 
events  of  the  World  are  below  the  regard  of  one  who  steps  from 
Throne  to  Throne,  &  converses  only  with  demigods  &  demi- 
goddesses.  Parliaments  are  broken  here  every  day  about  our  ears, 
but  their  splinters  are  not  of  consequence  enough  to  send  you.  I 
waited  for  something  worthy  of  being  entered  in  your  Imperial 
Archives — little  thinking  that  I  should  be  happy  enough  to  be  the 
First  to  inform  you,  at  least  to  ascertain  you,  of  the  most  Extra- 
ordinary discovery  that  ever  was  made,  &  far  more  important  than 
the  forty  dozen  of  Islands  which  Dr.  Solander  has  picked  up  the 
Lord  knows  where,  as  he  went  to  catch  new  sorts  of  fleas  & 
crickets ;  &  which  said  Islands,  if  well  husbanded,  m.ay  produce 
forty  more  Wars.  The  Discovery  I  mean  will  occasion  great  desolation 
too.  It  will  produce  a  violent  change  in  the  Empire  of  Parnassus,  it 
will  be  very  prejudicial  to  the  eyes,  &  considerably  reduce  the  value  of 
what  Cibber  calls  the  Paraphonalia  of  a  Woman  of  Quality.  It  is 
difficult  not  to  moralise  on  so  trist  an  event  I  Can  we  wonder  at 
that  fleeting  condition  of  Human  life  when  the  brightest  &  most 
durable  of  essences  is  proved  to  be  but  a  vapour  ?  No,  Madam,  I 
do  not  mean  Angels.  They  have  indeed  been  in  some  danger ;  but 
have  been  saved,  at  least  for  some  time,  by  Mad.  du  Barry,  &  the 
late  Edicts  that  wink  at  the  return  of  the  Jesuits.  The  radiances  in 
question  have  undergone  a  more  fiery  trial,  &  their  nothingness  is 
condemned  without  reprieve.  Yes,  Madam,  Diamonds  are  a  bubble, 
and  Adamant  itself  has  lost  its  obduracy.  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  it 
would  be  a  greater  compliment  now  to  tell  a  beauty  that  she  had  ruby 
eyes,  than  to  compare  them  to  a  Diamond,  &  if  your  Ladyship's 
heart  were  no  harder  than  Adamant,  I  should  be  sure  of  finding  it 
no  longer  irresistible.  As  this  memorable  process  took  its  rise  at 
Vienna,  your  Ladyship  may  perhaps  have  heard  something  of  it. 
Public  experiences  have  now  been  made  here ;  &  the  day  before 
yesterday,  the  Ordeal  Trial  was  executed.  A  Diamond  was  put  into 
a    Crucible    over    a    moderate    fire,   &    in   an    hour  was    absolutely 

56 


A   GRANDE  D^ME— LADY   MARY   COKE 

annihilated.  No  ashes  were  left,  not  enough  to  enclose  in  a  fancy 
ring.  An  Emerald  mounted  the  Scaffold  next — its  Verdure  suffered, 
but  not  its  Essence.  The  third  was  a  Ruby,  who  triumphed  over 
the  flames,  &  came  forth  from  the  furnace  as  unhurt  as  Shadrac, 
Meshac,  &  Abednego — to  the  immortal  disgrace  of  the  Diamond  :  a 
Crystal  behaved  with  as  much  Heroism  as  the  Ruby,  &  not  a  hair  of 
its  head  was  singed.  Nobody  can  tell  how  far  this  Revolution  will 
go.  For  my  part  as  I  foresee  that  no  woman  of  Quality  will  deign  to 
wear  any  more  Diamonds,  &  that  next  to  Rubies,  cristal  will  be  the 
principal  ornament  in  a  Lady's  Dress,  I  am  buying  up  all  the  old  Lustres 
I  can  meet  with.  I  have  already  got  a  piece  of  two  thousand-weight, 
&  that  I  hope  to  sell  for  fifty  thousand  pounds  to  the  first  Nabob's 
daughter  that  is  married,  for  a  pair  of  Earrings;  &  I  have  another 
still  larger,  that  I  am  taking  to  pieces,  &  intend  to  have  set  in  a 
Stomacher,  large  enough  for  the  most  prominent  Slope  of  the  present 
Age.  Mad.  du  Barry  they  say  has  already  given  Pitt's  Diamond  to  her 
Chambermaid ;  &  if  Lord  Pigot  is  wise,  he  will  change  his  at  Bette's 
glass  shop  for  a  dozen  strong  beer  glasses.  As  to  Lord  Clive  &  the 
Lady  of  Loretto,  I  do  not  feel  much  pity  for  them  ;  they  are  rich  enough 
to  stana  this  loss.  The  reflections  one  might  make  on  this  disaster  are 
infinite,  but  I  will  take  up  no  more  of  your  Ladyship's  time — nor  do  I 
condole  with  you,  Madam,  your  Philosophy  is  incapable  of  being 
shaken  byso  sublunary  a  consideration  as  a  decrease  in  the  value  of 
your  large  ring.  It  has  a  secret  and  inestimable  merit,  which  is  out  of 
the  power  of  a  crucible  to  assail ;  &  you  &  it  will  remain  or  become 
Stars,  when  the  fashion  of  this  World  passeth  away. 

"  I  am,  Madam, 

"  y  Ladyship's 

"  most  faithful! 

"  humble  Sert., 
"  HoR.  Walpole." 

Before  setting  out  for  Vienna  Lady  Mary,  of  course,  took 
formal  leave  of  her  own  sovereign  at  one  of  the  drawing- 
rooms,  when  the  Queen  of  England  sent  her  compliments  to 
the  Empress  of  Germany,  and  asked  Lady  Mary  if  the  King 
had  not  had  an  amiable  quarrel  with  her  about  her  going 
abroad.  Her  Ladyship  duly  noted  these  "  mighty  fine " 
speeches  in  her  journal,  but  at  the  same  time  expressed  her 
conviction  that  nobody  at  St.  James's  had  been  worse  treated 
than  she  had  been, — how  or  when  it  would  probably  have 
puzzled  anybody  else   to  point  out.      Three  months  later, 

57 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

when  Walpole,  being  back  in  London,  made  inquiries  after 
her  of  her  sister  Anne,  he  was  told  that  he  ought  to  write  to 
Vienna,  which  he  accordingly  did,  in  the  following  strain : — 

"  Arlington  Street, 

"  Dec.  nth,  1771. 

"  Lady  Strafford  tells  me  that  I  ought  to  write  to  your  Ladyship.    I  obey, 
though  I  am  not  quite  clear  that  she  is  in  the  right.     Can  you  care  for 
hearing  from  anybody  in  England,  Madam,  when  you  are  indifferent 
whether  you  see  them  or  not  ?     I  cou'd  say  a  great  deal  upon  this 
subject,  but  I  will  not — only  do  not  be  surprised  that  I  have  got  a  new 
Passion.     Ancient  Palladins,  I  know,  were  bound  to  maintain  constancy, 
tho'  they  travelled  all  over  the  World  ;  but  no  Act  of  the  ParUament  of 
Love  was  ever  passed  enjoining  fidelity  to  Knights,  when  it  was  their 
Ladies  that  took  to  travelling.     Indeed,  if  y'  Ladyship  had  made  a  vow 
to  wander  till  you  had  obliged  every  fair  Dame  in  Europe  to  confess 
how  much  handsomer  I  am  than  their  lovers,  something  might  be  said, 
but  as  you  have  sent  no  conquered  Amazon  to  kiss   my   hand  and 
acknowledge  my  claim,  I  am  not  bound  to  believe  that  you  are  travel- 
ling to  assert  my  Glory ;    &  therefore  regarding  you  as  a  truant,   I 
have  thrown  my  handkerchief  to  another  Lady,  &  declare  by  these 
presents  that  I  renounce  your  Ladyship's  allegiance.     It  will  be  in  vain 
to  mount  your  milk-white  palfrey  &  amble  home  directly  ;  the  die  is 
cast — &  Heaven  knows  whether  Matrimony  itself  may  not  ensue.     I 
shall  always  retain  a  sincere  friendship  for  you,  but  really  there  was  no 
end  of  having  one's  heart  jolted  about  from  one  country  to  another,  & 
of  having  it  lugged  once  a  year  to  Vienna.     A  heart  torn  to  pieces,  like 
flags  torn  in  battle,  is  very  becoming,  but  a  heart  black  and  blue  is 
horrible ;  and  I  can  tell  you,  y"^  Ladyship  does  not  look  the  better  for 
it,  tho'  you  have  endeavoured  to  conceal  its  bruises  by  embroidering  it 
all  over  with  spread  eagles.     But  here  I  drop  the  subject :  you  are  now 
your  own  Mistress,  Madam,  and  may  seek  what  adventures  you  please, 
undisturbed  by  me.     I  shall  be  sorry  to  see  you  return  even  with  two 
black  eyes,  but  shall  bear  it  with  all  the  Philosophy  of  friendship :  & 
as  friends  always  do,  shall  content  myself  with  telling  you  it  was  your 
own  fault,  &  with  recommending  the  best  eye-water  I  know.     Can  a 
friend  go  further,  except  in  whispering  to  everybody,  that  if  you  wou'd 
have  taken  my  advice,  you  wou'd  have  stayed  at  home. 

"  The  best  news  I  can  send  you.  Madam,  is  that  I  never  saw  Lady 
Strafford  look  in  better  health.  The  Town  is  a  Desart :  grass  grows  in 
the  pit  at  the  Opera.  The  Princess  of  Brunswick  is  coming :  the 
Princess  Dowager  is  going.  There  is  the  Devil  to  pay  I  don't  know 
where ;  &  the  Duke  of  Chandos  is  dead,  to  the  great  oy  of  that  noble 
family.     All  the    fine    ladies    are   in    love   with   Prince   Poniatowski " 

58 


A   GRANDE   DAME— J^ABY   MARY   COKE 

[brother  of  the  King  of  Poland]  "  and  some  of  them  win  his  money  at 
Loo — that  they  may  have  something  to  keep  for 'his  sake.  England  is 
in  profound  peace.  Ireland  is  a  hubbub.  December,  which  is  indeed 
no  news  to  you,  is  warmer  than  June,  &  which  is  still  news, 

"  I  am  your  Ladyship's 

"  most  devoted 

"  (tho'  inconstant) 
"  humble  Sert., 

"  HoR.  Walpole." 

About  this  time  Lady  Mary,  for  what  reason  does  not 
appear,  became  somewhat  testy  with  her  cavaHer ;  and  in 
the  last  of  his  letters  to  her  (or,  at  any  rate,  the  latest  in 
date  that  has  been  preserved  amongst  Mr.  Drummond- 
Moray's  papers)  he  was  forced  to  defend  himself  against 
charges  of  neglect,  of  an  altered  behaviour,  and  of  having 
sent  an  uncivil  message  to  her  through  a  third  person : — 

"Arlington  Street, 

"/a«.  2gth,  1772. 
"  Your  reproofs,  my  dear  Madam,  are  so  kindly  tempered  that,  tho' 
undeserved,  I  cannot  be  quite  sorry  to  have  received  them.  I  thank 
you  much  for  giving  me  an  opportunity  of  defending  myself,  &  you 
must  allow  me  to  distinguish  between  the  two  accusations,  as  they 
affect  me  very  differently.  What  you  think  you  have  observed  yourself 
would  hurt  me  very  seriously,  if  well  founded.  What  has  passed  through 
another,  Madam,  you  ought  only  to  have  smiled  at,  if  you  will  allow  me 
to  say  so.  Your  Ladyship  says  that  you  have  observed  an  alteration  in 
my  behaviour  to  you.  I  should  be  very  culpable  indeed  if  there  was 
any.  It  woud  be  most  ungrateful  after  all  your  goodness  to  me,  & 
it  woud  be  a  capital  contradiction  to  all  I  feel.  I  am  not  of  an  age  to 
plead  giddiness  and  thoughtlessness,  and  yet  most  assuredly  Inattention 
can  be  all  my  crime,  because  there  is  certainly  no  change  in  my  Regard 
&  Esteem.  I  respect  your  Virtues,  Madam,  &  the  thousand  good 
qualities  I  know  of  you,  &  as  you  have  lost  none  of  them,  I  must 
have  lost  my  senses  if  I  did  not  honour  them  as  much  as  ever,  which 
I  swear  to  you  I  do.  I  beg  your  pardon  if  any  negligence  can  be 
imputed  to  me,  &  I  refer  you  to  my  future  behaviour  for  my  Sincerity. 
For  what  your  Ladyship  calls  a  message  in  ridicule,  &  which  was 
nothing  but  a  very  inoffensive  joke,  if  no  more  was  delivered  than  I 
uttered,  &  even  in  which  you  shoud  consider  how  much  the  alteration 
but  of  an  accent  may  affect  the  substance,  all  I  can  remember  is,  that 
meeting  Lady  G[reenwich]  at  Lady  Blandford's,  I  said  something,  I 
protest  I  do  not  know  what,  of  supposing  your  Ladyship's  next  jaunt 

59 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

wou'd  be  to  China.  I  shoud  have  said  it  to  yourself  without  fear  of 
displeasing  you— &  to  say  the  truth  if  this  was  aggravated  into  a 
serious  message,  I  must  conclude  it  was  done  with  a  good  intention, 
as  your  friends  cannot  but  grieve  at  your  frequent  &  long  Eclipses, 
&  may  like  to  cover  what  they  wish  to  say  to  you  under  another 
person's  name.  Nobody  can  be  absurd  enough  to  suppose  your  Lady- 
ship has  any  interested  view  in  visiting  the  Empress-Queen,  or  in 
courting  any  other  person.  Can  the  Duke  of  Argyle's  daughter  desire 
to  be  higher  than  she  is  ?  &  woud  not  paying  court  be  lowering  her  ? 
Woud  it  not  infer  that  she  does  not  think  herself  great  enough  ?  Great 
Birth  is  your  own.  Favour  must  be  conferred  &  can  only  come  from 
a  Superior,  &  they  who  confer  favours  always  think  so  highly  of 
themselves  that  they  seem  to  undervalue  those  whom  they  fancy  they 
honour.  In  short.  Madam,  not  to  be  too  serious,  nor  to  enter  into  the 
Empress's  merits,  which  shall  be  as  great  as  you  please,  let  me  beg  you 
to  return  to  your  own  Empire  ;  come  and  reign  over  those  hearts  you 
dispose  of,  &  do  not  leave  them  because  somebody  or  other  has 
offended  you.  Contempt  &  Indifference  are  our  best  Weapons  or 
shield.  Life  is  not  long  enough  to  attend  to  resentments.  It  is  easy 
to  be  happy,  if  one  does  not  care  much  about  the  World,  but  takes 
it  as  it  comes.  I  have  practised  what  I  preach,  &  am  sure  of  my 
nostrum's  success.  If  one  does  not  love  often,  one  cannot  hate  often  : 
now  both  Love  and  Hatred  are  troublesome  Inmates.  I  will  give 
y'  Ladyship  more  lectures  upon  my  Philosophy  when  you  return ;  but 
I  shall  not  set  them  down  in  writing,  for  the  profane  are  not  to  be 
instructed.  You  shall  hear  me  with  patience — nay  8c  if  you  do  not, 
I  will  not  mind  it,  but  preach  on.  I  had  rather  make  you  angry  with 
reason,  than  be  again  accused  of  neglect.  I  will  make  use  of  all  the 
impertinent  privileges  of  a  Friend,  which  I  confess  are  shocking,  rather 
than  let  you  suspect  me  of  lukewarmness — but  never  a  verbal  message 
more !  I  condole  with  you.  Madam,  on  the  death  of  the  Princess  of 
Hesse.  Princess  Amelia,  tho'  expecting  it,  was  much  shocked.  I  tell 
you  no  news,  for  I  know  Lady  Strafford  sends  you  bushels,  wet  and 
dry.  If  she  does  not  tell  you  that  the  Pantheon  is  more  beautiful  than 
the  Temple  of  the  Sun,  read  no  more  of  her  letters.  I  acknowledge 
with  the  utmost  gratitude,  dear  Lady  Mary,  the  repetition  of  y''  Friend- 
ship &  am  firmly  persuaded  that  mine  will  never  alter  on  the  condition 
you  mark  for  its  duration,  8c  if  [it]  does,  the  fault  must  be  in 

"Y'  Ladyship's 

»  Most  faithfuU 

"  humble  Serf., 

"  HoR.  Walpole." 

The  fair  lady,  however,  was  not  to  be  pacified ;  and  she 

notes  in  her  journal,  "  I  shall  certainly  answer  Mr.  Walpole's 

60 


A  GRANDE   DAME— LADY   MARY  COKE 

letter,  but  he  has  surprised  me  so  much,  it  is  not  so  easy  for 
me  to  write  to  him  as  it  once  was."     Meanwhile  her  second 
visit  to  Vienna  was  not  prospering  as  the  former  one  had 
done.      She    made   herself    too   much   at   home,    and   was 
imprudent    enough   to   take   sides  in   some  cabal   amongst 
the   Austrian   courtiers,    whereat,    of  course,   the    Empress 
frowned,  and,  as  everybody  else  then  frowned  likewise,  Lady 
Mary  left  Vienna  at  the  conclusion  of  this  second  visit  in 
high  dudgeon.      She  believed,  or  affected  to  believe,  that 
Maria  Theresa  feared  she  would  captivate  and  marry  the 
Emperor  Joseph,  who  was  then  a  widower  for  the  second 
time ;  and  for  the  remainder  of  her  life  she  really  did  believe 
that  the  great  Empress-Queen  had  become  her  implacable 
enemy  and  was  continually  plotting  with  all  the  Powers  of 
Europe  against  her  !     Nevertheless,  in  the  summer  of  1773, 
she  was  indiscreet  enough  to  make  another  visit  to  Vienna, 
when,  to  her  surprise  and  intense  mortification,  Maria  Theresa 
declined  to  receive  so  quarrelsome  a  lady.    Horace  W^alpole, 
writing  to  her  brother-in-law,  Lord  Strafford,  in  September  of 
that  year,  gives  some  colour  to  the  supposition  that  she  really 
did  mean  setting  her  cap  at  the  Emperor  Joseph  by  remark- 
ing that  he  fears  she  is  in  pursuit  of  a  Dulcinea  that  she  will 
never  meet,  but  that,  when  the  ardour  of  peregrination  is 
abated,  she  will  probably  settle  down  to  some  more  rational 
pursuit,  "  and,  like  a  print  I  have  seen  of  the  blessed  martyr 
Charles  the  First,  abandon  the  hunt  of  a  corruptible  for  that 
of  an  incorruptible  crown."    In  a  subsequent  letter  to  the  same 
correspondent,  he  speaks  about  some  of  Lady  Mary's  morti- 
fications that  he  has  heard  of;  and  it  may  be  that  he  thought 
this  a  good  opportunity  to  make  a  more  direct  and  outspoken 
effort  to  laugh  her  out  of  her  "  phrenzy  for  royalty."     At  any 
rate,  it  must  have  been  about  this  time  that  he  penned  the 
following, — the  only  letter  to  her,  and  that  undated,  which 
appears  in  Cunningham's  edition  of  his  correspondence  : — 

"  Your  Ladyship's  illustrious  exploits  are  the  constant  theme  of  my 
meditations.    Your  expeditions  are  so  rapid,  and  to  such  distant  regions, 

61 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

that  I  cannot  help  thinking  you  are  possessed  of  the  Giant's  boots  that 
stepped  seven  leagues  at  a  stride,  as  we  are  assured  by  that  accurate 
historian,  Mother  Goose.  You  are,  I  know.  Madam,  an  excellent  walker, 
yet  methinks  seven  leagues  at  once  are  a  prodigious  straddle  for  a 
lady.  But  whatever  is  your  manner  of  travelling,  few  heroines,  ancient 
or  modern  can  be  compared  to  you  for  length  of  journeys.  Thalestris, 
Queen  of  the  Amazons,  and  M.  M.  or  N.  N.  Queen  of  Sheba,  went  each 
of  them  the  Lord  knows  how  far  to  meet  Alexander  the  Great  and 
Solomon  the  Wise ;  the  one  to  beg  the  favour  of  having  a  daughter  (I 
suppose),  and  heiress  by  him ;  and  the  other,  says  scandal,  to  grant  a 
like  favour  to  the  Hebrew  monarch.  Your  Ladyship,  who  has  more 
real  Amazonian  principles,  never  makes  visits  but  to  Emperors,  Queens, 
and  Princesses,  and  your  country  is  enriched  with  the  maxims  of 
wisdom  and  virtue  which  you  collect  in  your  travels.  For  such  great 
ends  did  Herodotus,  Pythagoras,  and  other  sages,  make  voyages  to 
Egypt,  and  every  distant  kingdom  ;  and  it  is  amazing  how  much  their 
own  countries  were  benefited  by  what  those  philosophers  learned  in 
their  perigrinations.  Were  it  not  that  your  Ladyship  is  actuated  by 
such  public  spirit,  I  should  put  you  in  mind,  Madam,  of  an  old  story, 
that  I  might  save  you  a  great  deal  of  fatigue  and  danger — and  now  I 
think  of  it,  as  I  have  nothing  better  to  fill  my  letter  with,  I  will  relate 
it  to  you. 

"  Pyrrhus,  the  martial  and  magnanimous  King  of  Epirus  (as  my  Lord 
Lyttelton  would  call  him),  being,  as  I  have  heard  or  seen  goodman 
Plutarch  say,  intent  on  his  preparations  for  invading  Italy,  Cineas,  one 
of  the  grooms  of  his  bedchamber,  took  the  liberty  of  asking  his  Majesty 
what  benefit  he  expected  to  reap  if  he  should  be  successful  in  conquering 
the  Romans  ?  '  Jesus  ! '  said  the  King,  peevishly  ;  '  why  the  question 
answers  itself.  When  we  have  overcome  the  Romans,  no  province,  no 
town,  whether  Greek  or  barbarian,  will  be  able  to  resist  us  :  we  shall  at 
once  be  masters  of  all  Italy.'  Cineas  after  a  short  pause,  replied—  '  And 
having  subdued  Italy,  what  shall  we  do  next  ?  '  '  Do  next  ?  '  answered 
Pyrrhus,  '  why  seize  Sicily.'  '  Very  likely,'  quoth  Cineas,  '  but  will  that 
put  an  end  to  the  war  ?  '  '  The  Gods  forbid  1 '  cried  his  Majesty, 
'  when  Sicily  is  reduced,  Libya  and  Carthage  will  be  within  our  reach.' 
And  then  without  giving  Cineas  time  to  put  in  a  word,  the  heroic  Prince 
ran  over  Africa,  Greece,  Asia,  Persia,  and  every  other  Country  he  had 
ever  heard  of  upon  the  face  of  God's  earth,  not  one  of  which  he  intended 
should  escape  his  victorious  sword.  At  last,  when  he  was  at  the  end  of 
his  geography,  and  a  little  out  of  breath,  Cineas  watched  his  opportunity, 
and  said  quietly,  '  Well  Sire,  when  we  have  conquered  all  the  World, 
what  are  we  to  do  then  ?  ' — '  Why  then,'  said  his  Majesty,  extremely 
satisfied  with  his  own  prowess,  '  we  will  live  at  our  ease  ;  we  will  spend 
whole  days  in  banqueting,  and  will  think  of  nothing  but  our  pleasures.' 

"  Now,  Madam,  for  the  application.     Had  I  had  the  honour  a  few 

62 


A   GRANDE  DAME— LADY   MARY   COKE 

years  ago  of  being  your  confidential  Abigail,  when  you  meditated 
a  visit  to  Princess  Estertiazy,  I  should  have  ventured  to  ask  your 
Ladyship  of  what  advantage  her  acquaintance  would  be  to  you  ? 
Probably  you  would  have  told  me  that  she  would  introduce  you  to 
several  Electresses  and  Margravines,  whose  Courts  you  would  visit. 
That,  having  conquered  all  their  hearts,  as  I  am  persuaded  you  would, 
your  next  jaunt  should  be  to  Hesse ;  from  whence  it  would  be  but  a 
trip  to  Aix,  where  Madame  de  Rochouart  lives.  Soaring  from  thence 
you  would  repair  to  the  Imperial  Court  at  Vienna,  where  resides  the 
most  august,  most  virtuous,  and  most  plump  of  Empresses  and  Queens 
— no,  I  mistake — I  should  only  have  said  of  Empresses  ;  for  her  Majesty 
of  Denmark,  God  bless  her !  is  reported  to  be  full  as  virtuous,  and  three 
stone  heavier.  Shall  you  not  call  at  Copenhagen,  Madam  ?  If  you  do, 
you  are  next  door  to  the  Czarina,  who  is  the  quintessence  of  friendship, 
as  the  Princess  Daskioff  says,  whom,  next  to  the  late  Czar,  her 
Muscovite  Majesty  loves  above  all  the  world.  Asia,  I  suppose,  would 
not  enter  into  your  Ladyship's  system  of  conquest ;  for  though  it 
contains  a  sight  of  Queens  and  Sultanas,  the  poor  ladies  are  locked  up 
in  abominable  places,  into  which  I  am  sure  your  Ladyship's  amity 
would  never  carry  you.  I  think  they  call  them  seraglios.  Africa  has 
nothing  but  Empresses  stark  naked,  and  of  complexions  directly  the 
reverse  of  your  alabaster.  They  do  not  reign  in  their  own  right ;  and 
what  is  worse,  the  Emperors  of  those  barbarous  regions  wear  no  more 
robes  than  the  sovereigns  of  their  hearts.  And  what  are  Princes  and 
Princesses  without  velvet  and  ermine  ?  As  I  am  not  a  jot  better 
geographer  than  King  Pyrrhus,  I  can  at  present  recollect  but  one  Lady 
more  who  reigns  alone,  and  that  is  her  Majesty  of  Otaheite,  lately 
discovered  by  Mr.  Banks  and  Dr.  Solander  ;  and  for  whom  your  Lady- 
ship's compassionate  breast  must  feel  the  tenderest  emotions,  she 
having  been  cruelly  deprived  of  her  faithful  Minister  and  lover  Tobin, 
since  dead  at  Batavia. 

"  Well,  Madam,  after  you  should  have  given  me  the  plan  of  your 
intended  expeditions,  and  not  left  a  Queen  Regent  on  the  face  of  the 
Globe  unvisited,  I  would  ask  what  we  were  to  do  next  ?  '  Why,  then 
dear  Abigail,'  you  would  have  said,  '  we  will  retire  to  Netting  Hill,  we 
will  plant  shrubs  all  the  morning,  read  Anderson's  Royal  Genealogies 
all  the  evening ;  and  once  or  twice  a  week  I  will  go  to  Gunnersbury 
and  drink  a  bottle  with  Princess  Amelia.'  Alas,  dear  Lady  1  and  cannot 
you  do  all  that  without  skuttling  from  one  end  of  the  World  to  the 
other  ?  This  was  the  upshot  of  all  Cineas's  inquisitiveness :  and  this  is 
the  pith  of  this  tedious  letter  from.  Madam,  your  Ladyship's  most 
faithful  Aulic  Counsellor  and  humble  admirer." 

It  was  not  to  be  expected — probably  the  writer  himself 
never  expected — that  humorous  effusions  such  as  this  would 

63 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

cure  Lady  Mary  of  her  passion  for  foreign  royalties.  If  they 
had  any  effect  at  all,  it  was  in  another  direction  altogether ; 
and  they  may  perhaps  have  accelerated  the  cooling:  of  a 
friendship  which  had  been  a  warm  one  on  both  sides  for 
seventeen  or  eighteen  years.  We  now  find  notes  in  her 
journal  to  the  effect  that  Mr.  Walpole  was  "exceedingly 
out  of  humour  "  when  she  happened  to  meet  him  at  Lord 
Hertford's,  that  he  never  once  wrote  to  thank  her  for  having 
called  so  often  to  inquire  after  him  during  his  illness,  that 
when  he  called  at  her  house  to  leave  her  a  copy  of  the  latest 
production  of  his  Strawberry  Hill  Press  he  went  away  with- 
out waiting  to  see  her,  and  other  similar  complaints ;  and 
in  Walpole's  letters  to  his  other  correspondents  we  find,  in 
place  of  the  customary  raptures  of  the  devoted  knight 
errant,  a  gradually  increasing  sense  of  her  Ladyship's  follies 
and  absurdities. 

In  July,  1773,  she  started  on  another  foreign  tour,  and 
remained  abroad  until  June  of  the  following  year.  According 
to  Mrs.  Delany,  her  Ladyship  had  resolved  to  make  up  for 
the  "  disgrace  "  of  being  refused  admittance  to  Maria 
Theresa's  Court  by  paying  her  homage  to  Frederick  the 
Great.  But  Frederick  had  heard  of  her  as  a  mischief-maker, 
and  when  she  came  to  Berlin  he  went  off  to  Potsdam  on 
purpose  to  avoid  her.  She  followed  him  thither  ;  and,  if 
we  are  to  believe  Mrs.  Delany  and  Lady  Louisa  Stuart,  the 
redoubtable  conqueror  was  obliged  to  resort  to  all  sorts  of 
undignified  shifts  in  order  to  avoid  a  rencontre  with  her  Lady- 
ship. Mrs.  Delany  goes  on  to  allege  that  Lady  Mary  not 
only  left  Prussia  in  great  indignation,  but,  being  piqued  to 
the  quick,  first  sent  a  note  to  the  King  saying  she  had 
hitherto  had  the  highest  admiration  for  him,  but  had  now 
discovered  that,  although  he  might  be  equal  to  any  of  the 
ancient  heroes  in  most  respects,  he  "  fell  short  of  them  in 
civility."  But  subsequently  Mrs.  Delany  had  to  correct 
herself  and  explain  that  it  was  a  verbal  message,  and  not 
a  note,  to  this  effect  that  Lady  Mary  left  behind  her;  so 

64 


A   GRANDE  DAME— 'LADY   MARY   COKE 

that,  after  all,  the  Prussian  monarch's  withers  were  probably 
unwrung,  for,  as  Mrs.  Delany  truly  observes,  it  is  not  very 
likely  that  anybody  about  the  Court  would  be  bold  enough 
to  deliver  such  a  message.  But  Lady  Mary  afterwards  con- 
trived to  make  capital  even  out  of  this  rebuff,  for  she  gave 
her  friends  to  understand  that  Frederick  the  Great  would 
never  have  taken  so  much  trouble  to  avoid  meeting  her  had 
she  not  been  considered  a  person  of  high  political  importance. 
After  this  she  extended  her  tour  to  Italy,  and  towards  the 
end  of  November  Walpole  informed  Sir  Horace  Mann  that 
two  English  people  above  the  common  standard  were  about 
to  visit  him  at  Florence,  one  being  that  "great  Indian  Verres 
or  Alexander"  Lord  Clive,  and  the  other  Lady  Mary  Coke. 
Concerning  the  latter,  he  says  : — 

"  She  was  much  a  friend  of  mine,  but  a  late  marriage  "  [the  Duke  of 
Gloucester's  marriage  to  Walpole's  niece,  Lady  Waldegrave]  "  which 
she  particularly  disapproved,  having  flattered  herself  with  the  hopes  of 
one  just  a  step  higher  "  [that  is  with  the  Duke  of  York],  "  has  a  little 
cooled  our  friendship.  In  short,  though  she  is  so  greatly  born,  she  has 
a  phrenzy  for  Royalty,  and  will  fall  in  love  with,  and  at  the  feet  of,  the 
great  Duke  and  Duchess,  especially  the  former,  for  next  to  being  an 
Empress  herself,  she  adores  the  Empress-Queen,  or  did — for  perhaps 
that  passion,  not  being  quite  reciprocal,  may  have  waned.  However, 
bating  every  English  person's  madness,  Lady  Mary  has  a  thousand 
good  qualities.  She  is  noble,  generous,  high-spirited,  undauntable ;  is 
most  friendly,  sincere,  affectionate,  and  above  any  mean  action.  She 
loves  attention,  and  I  wish  you  to  pay  it,  even  for  my  sake,  for  I  would 
do  anything  to  serve  her.  I  have  often  tried  to  laugh  her  out  of  her 
weakness ;  but  as  she  is  very  serious,  she  was  so  in  that,  and  if  all  the 
Sovereigns  in  Europe  combined  to  slight  her,  she  still  would  put  her 
trust  in  the  next  generation  of  Princes.  Her  heart  is  excellent  and 
deserves,  and  would  become,  a  crown,  and  that  is  the  best  of  all  reasons 
for  desiring  one." 

Mann  appears  to  have  done  his  best  to  comply  with 
Walpole's  wishes,  and  to  show  the  lady  every  attention  in 
his  power ;  but  after  her  Prussian  experience  she  was  in  no 
very  conciliatory  mood,  and  everything  went  wrong.  Of 
course  Mann  expressed  his  regret  to  Walpole ;  and  this  drew 

N.D.  65  F 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

from  the  latter  another  letter  of  still  not  unkindly  comment 
on  Lady  Mary's  character.  Writing  on  December  30th 
1773,  he  says  : — 

"  Oh  1  my  dear  Sir,  you  need  not  make  any  apologies  about  the  lady, 
who  is  so  angry  with  your  tribunals,  and  a  little  with  you.  If  you  have 
yet  received  the  letter  I  wrote  to  you  concerning  her  some  time  ago,  you 
will  have  seen  that  I  cannot  be  surprised  at  what  has  happened.  It  is  a 
very  good  heart,  with  a  head  singularly  awry  ;  in  short,  an  extraordinary 
character  even  in  this  soil  of  phenomena.  Though  a  great  lady,  she 
has  a  rage  for  great  personages,  and  for  being  one  of  them  herself ;  and 
with  these  pretensions,  and  profound  gravity,  has  made  herself 
ridiculous  at  home,  and  delighted  de  promener  sa  folic  sour  tout  I'Europe. 
Her  perseverance  and  courage  are  insurmountable,  as  she  showed  in 
her  conduct  with  her  husband  and  his  father,  in  which  contest  she  got 
the  better.  Her  virtue  is  unimpeachable,  her  friendship  violent,  her 
anger  deaf  to  remonstrance.  She  has  cried  for  forty  people,  and 
quarrelled  with  four  hundred.  As  her  understanding  is  not  so  perfect 
as  her  good  qualities,  she  is  not  always  in  the  right,  nor  skilful  in 
making  a  retreat.  I  endeavoured  to  joke  her  out  of  her  heroine- 
errantry,  but  it  was  not  well  taken.  As  she  does  the  strangest  things 
upon  the  most  serious  consideration,  she  had  no  notion  that  her 
measures  were  not  prudent  and  important ;  and  therefore  common 
sense,  not  delivered  as  an  oracle,  only  struck  her  as  ludicrous.  This 
offence,  and  the  success  of  my  niece  in  a  step  equally  indiscreet,  has  a 
little  cooled  our  intimacy  ;  but  as  I  know  her  intrinsic  worth,  and  value 
it,  I  beg  you  will  only  smile  at  her  pouting,  and  assist  her  as  much  as 
you  can.  She  might  be  happy  and  respected,  but  will  always  be 
miserable,  from  the  vanity  of  her  views,  and  her  passion  for  the  extra- 
ordinary. She  idolized  the  Empress-Queen,  who  did  not  correspond 
with  equal  sentiments.  The  King  of  Prussia,  with  more  feminine 
malice,  would  not  indulge  her  even  with  a  sight  of  him  ;  her  non- 
reception  at  Parma  is  of  the  same  stuff;  and  I  am  amazed  that  the 
littleness  she  has  seen  in  so  many  Sovereigns  has  not  cured  her  of 
Royal  admirations.  These  Solomons  delight  to  sit  to  a  maker  of  wax- 
work, and  to  have  their  effigies  exhibited  round  Europe,  and  yet  lock 
themselves  up  in  their  closets  when  a  Queen  of  Sheba  comes  to  stare 
at  their  wisdom." 

Towards  the  end  of  the  letter  he  returns  to  the  subject, 
and  adds : — 

"  Her  disposition  will  always  raise  storms,  and  you  may  be  involved 
in  them  as  innocently  as  you  have  been.  I  expected  to  hear  of  her  in 
some  strange  fracas  at  Rome  ;  and  as  there  is  another  Archduchess  at 

66 


A   GRANDE   DAME— l^ADY   MARY   COKE 

Naples,  whatever  vision  she  is  disappointed  in  will  be  laid  to  the 
implacability  of  Juno  "  [i.e.,  Maria  Theresa].  "  For  yourself,  however, 
you  may  be  easy,  for  nobody  here  sees  Lady  Mary's  disasters  in  a 
serious  light." 

Poor  Mann  had  to  put  up  with  her  Ladyship's  vagaries  for 
well  nigh  three  months,  and  was  occasionally  compelled  to 
relieve  his  feelings  in  a  letter  to  Walpole.  Answering  one 
of  these  on  February  2nd,  1774,  the  latter  remarks  that  the 
"Scotch  princess"  puts  him  in  mind  of  Lord  Fane,  who 
kept  his  bed  six  weeks  because  the  Duke  of  Newcastle  had 
ended  one  of  his  letters  simply  "  Your  humble  servant," 
instead  of  signing,  as  usual,  "  Your  very  humble  servant " ; 
and  on  the  23rd  of  the  same  month  he  writes  a  letter  of 
congratulation,  in  which  he  says  : — 

"  I  am  heartily  glad  you  are  rid  of  the  posthumous  Duchess.  .  .  . 
She  is  got  to  Turin,  and  will  be  at  home  in  about  two  months. 
Seriously,  I  apprehend  that  she  is  literally  mad.  Her  late  visions 
pass  pride  and  folly.  The  world  here  is  seriously  disposed  to  laugh 
at  her  ;  and  by  a  letter  that  is  already  come  from  her  to  Princess 
Amelia,  she  does  not  at  all  mean  to  keep  her  imaginary  persecutions 
secret." 

Even  after  he  had  got  rid  of  her,  however.  Lady  Mary 
found  cause  for  complaint  against  him,  for  after  her  arrival 
at  Turin  she  tells  her  sister  that,  although  she  has  had  three 
letters  from  Sir  Horace  Mann,  he  has  not  once  inquired 
about  the  behaviour  of  a  person  he  recommended  to  travel 
with  her  from  Florence,  although  this  person  (as  such  persons 
who  served  Lady  Mary,  according  to  her  account,  almost 
invariably  were)  proved  "  as  great  a  villain  as  could  possibly 
be."  And  she  adds,  "  I  believe  I've  already  hinted  that  Mr. 
Walpole  is  no  longer  my  friend."  No  more  letters  appear  to 
have  passed  between  them ;  and  soon  after  her  return  to 
England  in  June,  1774,  after  meeting  him  at  Lady  Bland- 
ford's,  she  remarks,  "I'm  better  pleased  that  he  has  ceased 
making  professions  of  friendship.  When  he  professed  most  he 
was  a  bitter  enemy."  A  little  later  she  unbent  so  far  as  to 
send  him  a  haunch  from  a  buck  that  had  been  presented  to 

67  F  2 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

her  by  Lord  Bute,  magnanimously  observing  that  "  when 
anybody  makes  advances  "  she  is  ready  to  accept  of  them. 
But  in  the  following  year,  when  they  both  happened  to  be  in 
Paris  at  the  same  time,  he  gave  her  such  grievous  offence 
that,  although  they  continued  to  meet  at  the  Princess 
Amelia's  and  elsewhere,  they  were  never  on  anything  but 
terms  of  distant  civility  ever  afterwards.  What  caused  the 
split  does  not  appear  either  in  Lady  Mary's  journal  or  in 
Walpole's  correspondence ;  but,  according  to  Lady  Louisa 
Stuart,  he  once  gave  a  verbal  account  of  the  affair  which 
showed  that  the  offence,  like  so  many  others,  existed  only  in 
Lady  Mary's  imagination.  She  had  been  indiscreet  enough, 
it  appears,  to  abuse  Maria  Theresa  in  the  Court  of  her 
daughter,  Marie  Antoinette,  and  had  thus  drawn  upon  her- 
self a  well-merited  rebuff  from  the  French  queen.  Con- 
sequently, of  course,  she  must  shake  the  dust  of  France  from 
her  feet  and  return  instantly  to  England.  About  five  o'clock 
one  morning,  Walpole  is  reported  to  have  said,  she  came  to 
his  apartments  and  had  him  roused  from  sleep.  He  dressed 
hurriedly  and  came  down  to  her,  thinking  that,  of  course, 
some  dire  calamity  must  have  happened.  When  he  heard, 
therefore,  that  her  only  trouble  was  that  Lady  Barrymore 
had  enticed  away  her  confidential  courier  and  factotum,  he 
felt  so  relieved  that  he  inadvertently  exclaimed,  "  Is  that 
all  ?  " — a  natural  and  innocent  remark  which  sent  Lady  Mary 
into  a  fury.  He  then  begged  her  to  compose  herself,  and 
promised  to  look  out  for  another  courier  for  her ;  but  this 
only  made  matters  worse,  for  she  went  on  to  explain  excitedly 
that  Lady  Barrymore  was  only  a  tool  in  the  hands  of  the 
Queen  of  France,  who  was  evidently  executing  the  com- 
mands of  her  mother,  the  Empress  of  Germany,  and  that 
the  wiling  away  of  her  faithful  courier  evidently  meant 
that  these  implacable  enemies  were  conspiring  together  to 
have  her  assassinated  during  her  journey  between  Paris  and 
Calais  !  Because  Walpole  was  unable  to  see  the  matter 
from  this  point  of  view,  he  was  "  false,"  and  henceforth  to 

68 


A  GRANDE   DAME— LADY   MARY  COKE 

be  reckoned  amongst  her  declared  enemies.  The  only 
reference  to  the  matter  in  his  correspondence,  however,  is  a 
passing  remark  in  a  letter  to  Mann  on  February  15th,  1776, 
to  the  effect  that — 

"  Lady  Mary  Coke  has  returned  some  services  at  Paris,  and  many 
years  of  great  attentions,  with  singular  rudeness  to  me  since  my  return 
— but  she  is  mad  ;  and  I  suppose  the  birth  of  the  Prince  "  [i.e.,  the  son 
of  his  niece  and  the  Duke  of  Gloucester]  "  at  Rome  will  send  her  to 
Bedlam." 

After  this  date  Lady  Mary's  name  seldom  occurs  in 
any  of  his  letters,  and  when  it  does  he  usually  exhibits 
a  tinge  of  malice  in  relating  some  instance  of  her  folly  or 
absurdity. 

From  her  fortieth  to  her  sixty-fifth  year,  or  for  about  a 
quarter  of  a  century.  Lady  Mary,  whether  at  home  or  abroad, 
was  in  the  habit  of  writing  an  account  of  her  daily  doings  in 
the  form  of  a  weekly  or  semi-weekly  letter  to  one  of  her 
sisters,  sometimes  addressing  it  to  Lady  Dalkeith  (after- 
wards Lady  Greenwich)  and  sometimes  to  Lady  Strafford. 
These  letters,  which  were  merely  a  private  chronicle  of 
personal  news,  and  evidently  never  written  with  any  view  to 
publication,  were  afterwards  put  together  in  the  form  of  a 
journal,  and  as  such  it  gives  a  very  minute  account  of  the 
daily  life  of  a  fine  lady  of  the  Georgian  era.  Between  1889 
and  i8g6  about  a  third  of  this  voluminous  journal  was  ably 
edited  by  the  Hon.  James  Archibald  Home  and  privately 
printed,  in  four  handsome  volumes,  at  the  expense  of  Lord 
Home.  Some  notion  of  the  quantity  of  reading  matter  in  it 
may  be  given  by  stating  that  this  printed  portion,  which 
covers  only  the  years  1766  to  1774  inclusive,  occupies  four 
bulky  volumes,  containing  altogether  1,630  pages,  or  over 
580,000  words.  It  is,  therefore,  rather  longer  than  Hallam's 
"Constitutional  History  of  England";  and  the  remaining 
seventeen  years  of  it  added  to  the  other  would,  assuming 
the  unprinted  part  to  be  of  equal  fulness,  make  a  book  as 
long  as    Hallam's  and    Macaulay's    histories   put    together. 

69 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

Few  people  could  be  induced  to  read  steadily  through  such  a 
prodigious  chronicle  of  "small  beer,"  especially  when  un- 
relieved by  any  gleam  of  wit  or  grace  of  style.  The  present 
writer,  at  any  rate,  makes  no  pretence  of  having  done  so. 
But  a  little  judicious  dipping  and  the  use  of  the  admirable 
index  have  sufficed  to  show  that  the  conception  of  Lady 
Mary's  character  to  be  obtained  from  the  writings  of  her 
friend  Horace  Walpole  and  her  niece.  Lady  Louisa  Stuart, 
would  not  be  materially  altered  by  the  reading  of  a  dozen 
volumes  of  her  own  journals. 

From  1749,  when  she  was  separated  from  her  husband, 
until  1764,  Lady  Mary  lived  with  her  mother  at  Sudbrook, 
near  Richmond,  although  for  part  of  that  time  she  had  a 
house  at  Windsor  also,  to  which  she  repaired  on  occasion. 
When  Duchess  Jane  died,  her  daughter's  fortune  was 
increased  by  about  ^12,000 ;  and  shortly  afterwards  (in 
1767)  she  bought  a  villa  at  Notting  Hill,  which  remained 
her  principal  place  of  abode  for  over  twenty  years.  The 
garden  of  her  house,  in  which  she  took  great  delight  and  did 
much  work  with  her  own  hands,  greatly  to  the  advantage  of 
her  health  and  vigour,  was  separated  from  the  grounds  of 
Holland  House  by  the  narrow  lane  which  still  skirts  the 
eastern  side  of  that  celebrated  palatial  domain ;  and  her 
meadows  (long  since  built  over,  of  course),  wherein  she  kept 
cows  and  poultry,  stretched  down  to  the  Bayswater  Road. 
In  her  garden  was  a  pond,  plentifully  stocked  with  gold  and 
silver  fish,  which,  strange  to  relate,  she  sometimes  "  catched  " 
and  ate  at  dinner,  finding  them  very  good,  she  says,  and 
without  many  bones.  From  1763  to  1775  she  had  a  town 
house  also,  which  she  rented  from  Lady  Bateman,  over- 
looking the  Green  Park,  and  for  a  short  time  afterwards  one 
in  Berkeley  Square,  and  then  one  in  Mount  Street.  In  1788 
she  gave  up  her  Notting  Hill  villa  in  favour  of  a  house  at 
Chelsea,  which  was  almost  as  countrified,  though  much 
nearer  to  town  ;  and  in  1808,  four  years  before  her  death, 
she  gave   this  up  in  its  turn  in  favour  of  an  old  mansion, 

70 


A  GRANDE  DAME— LADY   MARY  COKE 

with  a  high-walled  garden,  adjoining  that  of  the  Duke  of 
Devonshire  at  Chiswick. 

From  the  time  of  her  reappearance  after  her  husband's 
death,  in  1754,  when  she  was  seven  or  eight  and  twenty  years 
of  age,  until  her  death,  at  the  age  of  eighty-five,  in  1811,  Lady 
Mary  was    a  conspicuous  figure  in  London    society.      For 
twenty-seven  years  of  that  time  she  was  a  constant  satellite 
of  the  Princess  Amelia,  who  used  to  say  that  one  "  so  greatly 
born  "  would  always  be  welcome  at  her  table  provided  she 
would  be  a  little  less  contradictory  and  a  little  less  osten- 
tatious of  her  great  ability  towards  others  whom  she  imagined 
to  be  so  intellectually  inferior.      Horace  Walpole  reports  in 
a  letter  to  the  Countess  of  Ossory,  dated  January  29th,  1780, 
that  the  Princess  had  told  her  guests  a  night  or  two  before 
an   excellent   story   about    Lady    Mary.      The    Princess,    it 
appears,  was  in  the  habit  of  dining  once  a  week  at  Lady 
Holderness's,  with  only  the  small   party  necessary  for  the 
evening   loo.       Lady  Mary   wished  to  have  the  honour   of 
entertaining  her  Royal  Highness  in  similar  fashion,  and  the 
Princess  consented,  only  stipulating  that  it  should  be  a  very 
small  dinner.     She  found  a  banquet,  says  Walpole. 

"  As  she  sat  down,  the  groom  of  the  chambers  presented  to  her,  as 
she  thought,  an  empty  gilt  salver — for  what  purpose  she  could  not 
guess  ;  but  on  it  lay  (what  she  had  not  seen,  being  so  purblind)  two 
gold  pins  to  pin  her  napkins,  as  is  her  way.  Still  she  did  not  perceive 
they  were  of  gold ;  and  after  dinner  flung  them  away ;  when  to  the 
eternal  disgrace  of  magnificence,  Lady  Mary  retired  to  hunt  for  her 
pins." 

Very  soon  after  this,  however,  she  quarrelled  irreconcilably 
even  with  the  indulgent  Princess.  Besides  being  a  fanatical 
admirer  of  royalty.  Lady  Mary  was  a  devout  Churchwoman 
and  an  inveterate  gambler.  On  page  after  page  of  her 
journal  may  be  read  such  entries  as  "  Played  at  Lu ;  won 
eleven  guineas,  and  did  not  come  home  till  near  twelve 
o'clock.  Read  three  chapters  in  Revelations,"  or  "  I 
was  glad  to  set  down  to  Lu.     I  won  six  and  a  half  guineas, 

71 


,  NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

came  home,  read  three  chapters  in  the  Bible,  and  to  bed," 
or  "  To  Lady  Harrington's,  and  was  set  down  to  Lu  with 
the  Duchess  of  Hamihon.  Lost  ten  guineas,  and  did  not 
get  home  till  half  after  eleven.  Read  in  the  Bible  and  went 
to  bed."  But  the  Bible-reading  apparently  did  not  enable 
her  to  curb  her  violent  temper  when  she  lost  at  loo,  even 
in  the  presence  of  royalty,  which  she  reverenced  as  much 
as,  if  not  more  than,  she  did  the  Bible  ;  and  one  day,  when 
she  had  lost  at  the  card-table,  she  made  some  offensive 
observation  about  the  Princess's  play.  She  was  given  more 
than  one  opportunity  to  withdraw,  but  declined  to  do  so, 
whereupon  her  Royal  Highness  called  to  the  page  in  waiting 
to  order  Lady  Mary  Coke's  carriage  and  wished  her  Ladyship 
health  and  happiness  for  the  future,  but  for  the  present 
"  Good-morning !  "  She  was  then  bowed  out,  and  they 
never  met  again.  Soon  after  this  she  made  another  expedi- 
tion to  the  Continent,  which,  like  some  former  ones,  was 
unsuccessful.     Walpole  reports  to  Lady  Ossory  that — 

"  Lady  Mary  Coke  has  had  an  hundred  distresses  abroad,  that  do  not 
weigh  a  silver  penny  altogether.  She  is  like  Don  Quixote,  who  went  in 
search  of  adventures,  and  when  he  found  none  imagined  them.  She 
went  to  Brussels,  to  see  the  Archduchess,  but  either  she  had  bad 
intelligence,  or  the  Archduchess  very  good,  for  she  was  gone  when 
Lady  Mary  arrived  ;  so  was  the  packet-boat  at  Ostend,5  which  she 
believes  was  sent  away  on  purpose,  by  a  codicil  in  the  Empress- 
Queen's  will." 

Her  fear  of  plots  against  her,  due  to  the  enmity  of  Maria 
Theresa,  survived  for  a  long  time.  If  one  of  her  maids, 
irritated  by  the  mistress's  ill-temper,  showed  "  insolence  "  in 
return,  the  woman  was  acting  in  the  interests  of  Maria 
Theresa.  She  once  went  to  an  auction  in  her  neighbour- 
hood and  bid  for  a  second-hand  chest  of  drawers.  The 
article  was  worth  twenty  shillings,  perhaps,  but  when  the 
brokers  present  saw  a  magnificently  attired  lady  bidding,  of 
course  they  ran  the  price  up  to  a  ridiculous  figure,  and  also 
convinced  her  that  they  must  be  emissaries  from  Maria 
Theresa.     When  she  lost  some  pearls,  and  thought  she  had 

72 


A  GRANDE  DAME— LADY   MARY  COKE 

been  robbed,  though  the  said  pearls  all  the  while  were  safe 
in  a  box  in  Coutts's  Bank,  she  imagined   that  some  agent 
of  Maria   Theresa's   had   obtained   access  to  her  house  at 
Notting    Hill.      She    perpetually   changed    her    tradesmen 
and  her  servants  for  suspected  complicity  in  some  similar 
Imperial    plot,    until    so    difficult   was    it   for    her    to    get 
domestics    that    her   house   was   filled,    says    Lady    Louisa 
Stuart,  with  a  set  of  ragamuffins  whose  characters  were  so 
bad  that  they  could  get  no  other  place.     She  even  seemed 
to  believe  that  the  rheumatic  pains  in  her  arm  and  shoulder 
had  been  caused,  at  least  indirectly,  by  the  Empress-Queen  ; 
for  it  was  Maria  Theresa,  she  declared,  who  had  instigated 
her  post-boys  to  drive  her  into  a  river  near  Milan,  where  she 
sat  for  some  time  up  to  her  knees  in  cold  water,  and  would 
in  all  probability  have  been  drowned  had  it  not  been  for  her 
faithful  courier,  who  rode  up  to  the  post-boys,  pistol  in  hand, 
and  forced  them  to  get  the  horses  out  of  the  stream.     All 
this,  of  course,  enhanced  her  already  abnormal  sense  of  her 
own   great   importance,  and   also  made  her   the  laughing- 
stock of  London. 

She  concerned  herself  very  much  about  political  affairs, 
which  were  seldom  to  her  liking,  for  while  the  Opposition, 
ot  course,  was  always  in  the  wrong,  the  measures  of  the 
Government  rarely  met  with  her  entire  approbation.  The 
fashions  also  degenerated  abominably.  She  was  devoted 
to  the  hoops  and  sacks  of  her  younger  days,  and  she  thought 
it  nothing  short  of  insanity  when  people  took  to  wearing 
white  linen,  or  ostrich  feathers,  or  other  things  which  she 
denominated  fantastic  novelties.  Her  own  dress  was  always 
peculiar  and  conspicuous,  one  of  her  longest-lasting  fancies 
being  for  pea-green  and  silver.  In  December,  1782,  when 
she  was  verging  on  sixty  years  of  age.  Lady  Louisa  Stuart, 
in  one  of  her  letters,  describes  "  poor  Aunt  Mary "  as 
haranguing  in  the  booksellers'  shops,  lecturing  the  trades- 
men, examining  the  walls  for  treason,  threatening  the 
''democrats"  with    the    Mayor,  etc.,  "and   all    in   a  riding 

73 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

habit  of  the  King's  dressed  uniform,  shining  with  so  much 
gold,  I  am  amazed  the  boys  do  not  follow  her."  If  there 
happened  to  be  any  idle  boys  about  Netting  Hill  one  July 
day  in  the  previous  year,  they  may  have  had  an  extra  treat, 
for  Lady  Mary,  while  disporting  herself  in  a  riding-dress  of 
red  and  silver,  ignominiously  fell  into  a  wayside  ditch.  A 
couple  of  years  later  we  hear  of  her  driving  up  to  her  niece's 
door  in  a  chaise  with  a  magnificent  red  and  silver  postilion, 
"  and  out  of  it  jumped  Queen  Mary,  as  magnificent  in  green 
and  silver."  Royal  and  noble  mesalliances  continued  to  give 
her  great  distress.  The  connection  of  the  Prince  of  Wales 
with  Mrs.  Fitzherbert  in  1786  set  her  raving ;  and  in 
December,  1800,  when  Lady  Hamilton,  recently  returned 
from  Naples  with  Lord  Nelson,  was  introduced  into  London 
society,  she  launched  out  into  a  philippic  of  such  vehemence 
and  volubility  at  Lady  Lonsdale's  one  day  that  a  new 
footman,  coming  into  the  room  with  coals,  set  down  the 
scuttle  and  stared  at  the  lady  as  if  he  really  believed  her  to 
be  a  raving  lunatic ;  which  made  so  comical  a  picture  that 
his  mistress  could  scarcely  restrain  herself  from  laughing 
aloud.  At  the  age  of  seventy-seven  her  wonderful  vitality 
showed  signs  of  failure ;  she  had  outlived  the  last  of  her  old 
friends,  and  began  to  look  thin  and  wretched.  In  the 
following  year  her  niece  described  her  as  so  tottering  and 
decrepit  that  no  one  could  be  sorry  when  the  end  came. 
But  in  1807  she  revived  again,  and  Lady  Louisa  writes  of 
her  as — 

"  really  a  most  astonishing  woman  to  be  eighty-two ;  still  as  violent 
and  absurd  as  ever ;  all  her  faculties,  and  her  senses,  and  her  nonsense, 
just  the  same !  I  have  long  looked  for  the  time  when  she  should 
become,  as  Wilkes  said  of  himself  an  '  extinct  volcano,'  but  I  believe  she 
will  blaze  on  to  the  very  last." 

In  1808  she  bought  the  house  at  Chiswick  whose  walled-in 
grounds  adjoined  those  of  the  Duke  of  Devonshire.  The 
mansion,  which  had  a  handsome  oak  staircase  and  painted 
walls,  had  been  built  by  Sir  Stephen  Fox,  the  founder  of  the 

74 


A   GRANDE   DAME—LADY   MARY   COKE 

Holland  and  Ilchester  families,  and  King  William  the  Third 
had  been  so  pleased  with  it  as  to  say  he  could  pass  a  week 
there  with  pleasure.  But,  according  to  Lord  Gower,  Lady 
Mary  lived  in  a  very  uncomfortable  fashion  in  two  of  its 
smallest  rooms,  and  died  there  in  a  small  tent  bed,  half  sunk 
in  a  recess,  which  must  have  been  as  difficult  to  get  in  and 
out  of  as  if  it  had  been  a  chest  of  drawers  !  Charles  Kirk- 
patrick  Sharpe,  Sir  Walter  Scott's  friend,  writing  to  Lord 
Gower  on  October  15th,  181 1,  says  : — 

"  Lady  Mary  Coke  is  dead  at  last,  and  has  left  all  her  money  to  the 
Buccleugh  family  and  Lady  Douglas.  Not  a  sous  to  the  Argylls,  which 
vexes  me  on  poor  Lady  Charlotte's  account.  Lady  Queensberry  tells 
me  that  Lady  Mary  died  with  a  high-crowned  hat  upon  her  head,  tho' 
in  bed — like  Cleopatra  crowned  '  Proud  Egypt's  prouder  Queen.'  As 
Lord  Seafield  said  of  the  Scottish  Parliament  at  the  Union,  '  here's  the 
end  of  an  auld  sang.'  She  was  the  daughter  of  a  sad,  robust  villain, 
and  in  character  as  like  her  father  as  Christina  of  Sweden  was  to  hers. 
Only  think  of  Lord  Orford  "  [i.e.,  Horace  Walpole]  "  being  in  love  with 
such  a  harpy  1  " 

Sharpe  evidently  had  more  to  say  about  her,  and  had  gone 
on  to  add  that  "  she  was  vulgar :  she  said  *  this  here '  and 
'  that  there,'  which  was  extraordinary,  as  she  must  always 
have  been  in  the  best  circles  of  society";  but  just  at  this 
moment  the  post  called,  and  he  was  obliged  to  break  off, 
depriving  us,  doubtless,  of  further  interesting  details  and 
caustic  comments.  The  Duchess  of  Buccleuch,  writing  to 
Lady  Douglas  immediately  after  the  event,  bears  out  Lord 
Gower's  account  of  the  discomfort  in  which  Lady  Mary  must 
have  spent  her  latter  days.  It  was  impossible,  she  said,  to 
describe  the  dirt  and  confusion  she  found  in  the  house :  all 
the  drawers  full  of  litter;  quantities  of  useless  bills,  notes, 
and  letters ;  a  few  coins  here  and  there ;  a  few  bank-notes 
in  one  place,  a  few  in  another ;  papers,  wax  candles,  pins, 
tea,  sugar,  and  all  sorts  of  rubbish,  jumbled  together  indis- 
criminately. 

Horace  Walpole,  who  knew  Lady  Mary  from  her  youth 
up,  and  Lady  Louisa  Stuart,  whose  observation  was  limited 

75 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

to  that  of  a  young  niece  on  an  elderly  aunt,  both  formed  much 
the  same  estimate  of  her  character.  She  was  not  a  silly 
woman ;  on  the  contrary,  she  was  generally  admitted  to  be 
clever.  She  was  honourable,  generous,  high-spirited,  sincere, 
affectionate,  and  above  any  mean  action.  Her  virtue  was 
unimpeachable,  a  commendation  which,  unhappily,  it  would 
be  impossible  to  bestow  on  many  of  her  highly  placed  con- 
temporaries. But  she  had  little  judgment  and  so  much 
vanity,  self-conceit,  prejudice,  obstinacy,  and  violence  of 
temper  that  she  was  always  putting  herself  in  the  wrong. 
She  had  many  warm  friendships ;  but  most  of  them  were  too 
warm,  and  were  very  apt  to  be  fanned  by  some  fancied  slight 
into  not  merely  warm,  but  burning,  resentments.  She  had 
a  very  exaggerated  notion  of  her  own  importance,  which, 
together  with  her  "  phrenzy  for  royalty  "  and  the  lamentable 
lack  of  a  sense  of  humour,  made  her  supremely  ridiculous. 
Walpole,  in  the  end,  was  forced  to  the  conclusion  that  she 
had  become  really  mad.  Lady  Louisa,  however,  will  not 
hear  of  this,  and  declares  that  there  was  not  the  least  trace 
of  insanity  in  her  composition,  but  that  she  was  an  extra- 
ordinary "character,"  a  unique  specimen,  as  interesting  to 
the  psychologist  as  some  rare  plant  would  be  to  a  botanist ; 
in  short,  that  she  was  an  eccentric  of  the  first  water. 


76 


Sir  Henry  Bate  Dudley. 

After  Gainsborough 


II 


A    JOURNALISTIC    PARSON— SIR    HENRY 
BATE-DUDLEY,    BART. 


II 


A   JOURNALISTIC    PARSON— SIR    HENRY    BATE- 
DUDLEY,    BART. 

There  were  many  good  paisons  in  the  Church  of  England 
during  the  Georgian  era,  as  there  have  been  at  all  times. 
The  reader  will  probably  have  little  difficulty  in  calling  to 
mind  such  names  as  those  of  pious  John  Newton,  Cowper's 
friend ;  of  George  Crabbe,  the  poet ;  of  Gilbert  White,  the 
tranquil  naturalist  of  Selborne  ;  of  Dr.  Samuel  Parr,  the  most 
learned  man  of  his  age  ;  of  William  Paley,  the  moral  philoso- 
pher ;  and  of  other  eminent,  though  not  always  highly  placed, 
ornaments  of  their  sacred  profession.  And  we  need  not  doubt 
that  in  obscure  villages  in  every  part  of  the  country  there 
were  to  be  found  good,  pious,  simple-minded  clergymen  who 
might  well  have  sat  for  Goldsmith's  portrait  of  the  amiable 
vicar  of  Wakefield.  But  during  that  era  there  appears  to 
have  been  a  considerable  proportion  of  black  sheep  amongst 
the  flock,  or  rather,  to  mend  the  metaphor,  a  considerable 
proportion  of  blackamoor  shepherds,  whose  spiritual  skins  the 
most  ardent  advocate  could  never  wash  into  any  semblance 
of  white.  In  many  country  villages  the  church  buildings 
were  allowed  to  fall  into  decay ;  and  the  incumbent,  who 
lived  an  idle,  if  not  a  dissolute,  life  in  London,  or  Bath,  or 
Tunbridge  Wells,  made  only  an  occasional  appearance  in  his 
parish,  when  he  would  stand  up  in  a  dirty  surplice  to  preach 
a  perfunctory  fifteen  minutes'  sermon  to  a  meagre  and  practi- 
cally unknown  congregation.  In  some  agricultural  districts 
services  were  held  in  the  church  not  oftener  than  once  a 
month.   And  even  when  there  was  a  resident  curate-in-charge 

79 


NOBLE    DAMES    AND    NOTABLE    MEN 

matters  were  sometimes  not  much  better,  for  many  of  these 
lived,  to  put  it  mildly,  as  free  and  easy  a  life  as  the  coarsest 
of  their  bucolic  parishioners,  and  spent  much  time  which 
should  have  been  otherwise  employed  in  smoking  and  drink- 
ing punch  with  the  landlord  of  the  village  inn.  Livings  were 
openly  bought  and  sold,  and  an  advertisement  might  occa- 
sionally be  seen  in  which  a  pastor  unblushingly  sought  for 
"  a  curacy  in  a  good  sporting  country  where  the  duty  is  light 
and  the  neighbourhood  convivial."  A  hunting  parson  has 
been  known  to  perform  divine  service  with  scarlet  coat  and 
top-boots  under  his  surplice ;  and  it  is  on  record  that  one 
Sunday  in  a  church  near  the  South  Downs  the  clerk  gave 
out  notice  that  there  would  be  no  service  that  evening 
because  the  parson  was  going  off  to  Lewes  to  be  in  time  for 
the  races  next  day.  Such  things  were  so  much  a  matter  of 
course  that,  as  a  rule,  nobody  thought  of  complaining,  but  it 
so  happens  that  on  this  occasion  an  aggrieved  parishioner 
promptly  went  to  the  bishop  to  acquaint  him  with  this  breach 
of  clerical  duty.  "  Why  is  he  in  such  a  hurry  to  get  to 
Lewes  ?  "  inquired  the  bishop.  The  scandalised  parishioner 
declared  with  a  shocked  expression  that  the  parson  was 
actually  going  to  ride  in  one  of  the  races.  "  Then,"  rejoined 
the  right  reverend  father  in  God,  "  I'll  bet  j^ou  two  to  one  he 
wins  !  "  And  there  were  even  more  scandalous  specimens 
than  these.  Alexander  Knox,  himself  a  clergyman,  makes 
the  following  admission  in  one  of  his  "  Essays  "  : — 

"  I  am  sorry  to  be  obliged  to  confess  that  the  serious  part  of  mankind 
have  long  had  just  reason  to  express  their  abhorrence  at  the  frequent 
occurrence  of  the  professed  clerical  libertine."  And  again,  "  The 
public  have  long  remarked  with  indignation  that  some  of  the  most 
distinguished  coxcombs,  drunkards,  debauchees,  and  gamesters  who 
figure  at  the  watering-places  and  all  places  of  public  resort,  are  young 
men  of  the  sacerdotal  order." 

At  the  same  time  it  may  be  well  to  bear  in  mind  that  black 
sheep  are  not  always  quite  so  black  as  they  are  apt  to  be 
painted.     At  any  rate,  this  is   so  in  the  case  of  the  Rev. 

80 


SIR   HENRY   BATE-DUDLEY,   BART. 

Henry  Bate,  afterwards  Sir  Henry  Bate-Dudley,  Bart.,  whose 
traditional  reputation  as  a  mere  bruiser,  debauchee,  and 
shameless  purveyor  of  scurrilous  libels  will  bear  a  good  deal 
of  emendation. 

Henry  Bate,  the  father  of  the  young  man  who  became 
known  to  fame  as  "the  fighting  parson,"  appears  to  have 
been  a  highly  respectable  clergyman,  who  came  of  an  old 
and  opulent  Worcestershire  family.  For  some  years  he  held 
the  living  of  St.  Nicholas  in  the  city  of  Worcester,  where 
also  he  kept  a  school,  which  was  attended  by  the  sons  of  the 
principal  nobility  and  gentry  of  the  neighbourhood.  Like 
the  vicar  of  Wakefield,  he  had  his  quiver  full ;  and  we  learn 
from  a  quaintly  worded  contemporary  record  that  his  son 
Henry,  who  first  saw  the  light  in  1745,  was  the  second  of 
twelve  children  who  were  "  borne  to  his  father  in  wedlock." 
In  due  course  young  Henry  was  sent  to  Oxford,  where,  we 
are  assured,  he  was  particularly  assiduous  in  his  studies,  which 
of  course  may  be  true  notwithstanding  the  significant  fact 
that  he  left  the  University  without  taking  any  degree.  From 
an  incidental  remark  in  a  letter  of  his  in  the  Morning  Post, 
in  which  he  speaks  of  having  been  in  the  army,  it  would 
appear  that  when  he  left  Oxford  his  father  bought  him  a 
commission.  But  he  cannot  have  been  a  soldier  for  any 
length  of  time.  In  1763  Lord  Camden,  then  Lord  Chancellor, 
presented  the  elder  Bate,  with  whom  he  was  very  intimate, 
to  the  rectory  of  North  Fambridge,  in  Essex,  where,  unfortu- 
nately, both  the  rector  and  his  wife  died  a  very  few  years 
after.  Whether  young  Henry  was  in  the  army  or  not  at  that 
time  does  not  appear,  but  anyhow  he  promptly  took  orders, 
and  was  soon  installed  by  the  Lord  Chancellor  in  the  rectory 
of  Fambridge  in  succession  to  his  father.  He  is  said  to  have 
devoted  the  whole  of  the  revenues  of  his  cure  to  the  mainte- 
nance of  his  numerous  brothers  and  sisters,  and  to  have  gone  off 
to  London  determined  to  make  a  fortune  by  his  pen.  Presum- 
ably some  poorly  paid  curate  was  left  to  attend  to  the  spiritual 
needs  of  the  parishioners  of  North  Fambridge  in  the  meantime. 

N.D.  81  G 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

"When  we  next  hear  of  the  young  man  he  is  described 
as  curate  to  the  Rev.  James  Townley,  vicar  of  Hendon,  in 
Middlesex.  The  hving  of  Hendon  was  in  the  gift  of  David 
Garrick,  who  presented  Townley  to  it  in  1772  ;  consequently 
young  Bate  must  have  been  at  this  time  at  least  twenty-six 
years  of  age.  Townley  is  remembered  as  the  author  of  a  popular 
farce  called  "  High  Life  below  Stairs."  He  was  believed  to 
have  assisted  Garrick  in  the  composition  of  several  of  his 
plaj's ;  and  he  also  assisted  another  famous  friend,  William 
Hogarth,  in  the  composition  of  that  painter's  "Analysis  of 
Beauty."  He  was  a  friend  of  the  wits,  who  admired  his 
facility  in  impromptu  epigram  ;  and  he  was  also  a  popular 
preacher,  having  the  invaluable  gift  of  adapting  his  remarks 
to  his  auditory.  It  is  probable  that  he  introduced  his  curate 
to  Garrick  ;  at  any  rate,  no  long  time  afterwards  we  find  Bate 
on  friendl}'  terms  with  the  great  actor,  as  he  afterwards 
became  with  Cumberland  and  Colman  and  all  the  actors 
and  playwrights  of  the  day.  Presumably  he  was  at  this  time 
engaged  in  winning  his  spurs  as  a  journalist;  but  what  first 
brought  him  prominently  before  the  public  was  a  fracas  in 
Vauxhall  Gardens  in  the  summer  of  1773.  The  Morning 
Chronicle  of  July  27th  contained  an  account  of  this  affray, 
which  had  occurred  on  the  previous  Friday  night ;  but  in 
consequence  of  this  account  being  inaccurate,  or  at  least 
imperfect.  Bate  himself  gave  full  particulars  of  what  had 
happened  in  a  signed  communication  to  the  Morning  Post  of 
the  succeeding  Friday.  Both  the  Post  and  the  other  papers 
were  full  of  letters,  and  jokes,  and  verses,  and  squibs  on  the 
subject  for  a  month  or  more ;  but,  as  nobody  made  any 
material  correction  of  Bate's  narrative,  we  may  in  the  main 
safely  follow  his  own  account  of  the  matter. 

Being  at  Vauxhall  on  the  previous  Friday  evening,  he 
happened  to  see  Mrs.  Hartley,  with  whom  he  was  acquainted, 
seated  on  a  bench  near  the  orchestra  in  company  with  Mr. 
Hartley,  Mr.  Colman,  and  Mr.  Tateham.  Mrs.  Hartley,  it 
may  be  necessary  to  interpolate,  was  a  young  and  remarkably 

82 


SIR   HENRY   BATE-DUDLEY,   BART. 

beautiful  actress,  who  in  the  previous  year  had  taken  the 
town  by  storm  as  Jane  Shore,  and  who  had  been  more 
recently  delighting  audiences  at  Covent  Garden  as  the  Fair 
Rosamond  in  Hull's  "  Henry  the  Second."  Bate  sat  down 
with  the  group,  and  joined  in  their  conversation.  Presently 
they  observed  two  gentlemen  pass  by  who  looked  at  Mrs. 
Hartley  *'  in  a  manner  not  altogether  genteel."  They  took 
little  or  no  notice  of  this ;  but  after  a  short  time  these  fine 
gentlemen  returned,  accompanied  by  two  or  three  others  of 
a  military  appearance,  who  all  seated  themselves  at  a  table 
immediately  opposite  to  Mrs.  Hartley,  and  tried  to  stare 
her  out  of  countenance.  She  bore  it  silently  for  a  time,  and 
then  complained  to  Mr.  Hartley.  That  gentleman,  being 
apparently  a  peace-at-any-price  man,  begged  her  to  keep  her 
seat  till  the  conclusion  of  the  cantata  then  being  performed, 
after  which,  he  said,  they  would  all  retire.  But  the  siege  of 
these  gallant  heroes  became  so  unendurable  that  she  told  her 
friends  she  could  bear  it  no  longer.  Bate  thereupon  turned 
his  head,  and  "  discovered  four  of  these  pretty  things  staring 
at  her  with  that  kind  of  petit  maitre  audacity  which  no 
language  but  the  modern  French  can  possibly  describe." 
He  instantly  got  up,  and  remarking  loudly  enough  for  them 
to  hear  that  he  would  prevent  any  further  insult  of  that 
nature,  he  placed  himself  on  a  seat  directly  between  them 
and  Mrs.  Hartley.  But,  instead  of  discontinuing  the  siege, 
they  now  directed  their  laughter  and  raillery  against  him. 
He  turned  to  face  them,  when,  as  he  rather  curiously,  and 
perhaps  apologetically,  phrases  it,  "some  distortions  of 
features,  I  believe,  passed  on  both  sides." 

Mrs.  Hartley,  in  disgust,  rose  up  and  made  for  the  walk, 
and,  of  course,  her  company  followed  her ;  but  before  Bate 
quitted  the  scene  he  informed  the  staring  gentlemen  that 
they  were  "  four  impertinent  puppies."  As  he  walked  away 
one  of  them,  whom  he  afterwards  found  to  be  Captain  Crofts, 
of  Burgoyne's  Light  Dragoons,  followed  and  inquired  whether 
that  remark    had   been   addressed   to   him.      Bate   replied, 

83  G  2 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

certainly  not.  as  ho  did  not  recollect  to  have  seen  him  in  the 
party.  Not  satisfied  with  this  answer.  Crofts  persisted  in 
asking  whether  the  other  had  called  him  a  pupp>'-  Bate 
answered  as  before,  but  added  that  if  his  questioner  would 
say  that  he  was  one  of  the  party,  then  the  remark  would 
apply  to  him,  for  what  he  had  said,  and  what  he  repeated. 
was  that  the  party  of  gentlemen  who  so  meanly  and 
scandalously  distressed  the  lady  with  whom  ho  was  in 
company  were  "four  dirty,  impertinent  puppies."  There- 
upon the  Captain  surveyed  the  parson  from  head  to  foot, 
and  observed  superciliously,  "  You  are  indeed  a  good  tight 
fellow,  and  therefore,  I  suppose,  mean  to  intimidate  me 
because  you  are  a  boxer."  Why  he  should  have  made  such 
a  remark  is  not  very  clear,  because,  according  to  all  the 
accounts,  they  were  strangers  to  one  another.  Perhaps  he 
jumped  to  that  conclusion  from  his  survey  of  the  parson's 
physique,  for,  as  Henry  Angelo  informs  us.  Bate  was  then 
"  as  magniticent  apiece  of  humanity,  perhaps,  as  ever  walked 
arm  in  arm  with  a  fashionable  beauty  in  the  illuminated 
groves  of  Vauxhall."  However  that  may  be,  Bate  replied 
that  boxing  was  by  no  means  his  intention,  and  proceeded  to 
walk  on ;  but  when  the  other  continued  to  follow  and  make 
remarks,  he  turned  round  and  declared  that  if  three  more 
impertinent  words  were  addressed  to  him  he  would  wring 
Crofts'  nose  off  his  face.  On  this  the  Captain  asked  him 
for  his  name  and  address,  which  were  instantly  given.  Bate 
then  drew  off  to  his  company,  imagining  that  the  affair 
would,  at  least,  stand  peaceably  over  till  the  morrow. 

He  and  his  company  proposed  to  leave  the  Gardens 
immediately,  but  were  obliged  to  walk  round  first  in  search 
of  one  of  their  number  who  was  missing.  When  at  the 
further  end  of  the  promenade  they  met  with  their  former 
assailants,  reinforced  by  several  others,  when  a  fresh  attack 
instantly  began,  insolence  to  the  lady  being  accompanied  by 
"  Twig  the  curate ! "  and  other  pleasantries  levelled  at  her 
protector.     Submitting  to  this,  he  says,  as  long  as   human 

84 


SIR   HENRY   BATE-DUDLEY,    BART. 

nature  could  endure  it,  at  last  he  stopped  short,  with  the 
intention  of  knocking  down  the  first  man  who  made  another 
insulting  remark.  Then  Captain  Crofts  stepped  up,  touched 
him  on  the  shoulder,  and  addressing  him  by  name,  begged  to 
speak  another  word  with  him.  He  had  forgotten  Mr.  Bate's 
address,  he  explained,  and  was  under  the  necessity  of  asking 
for  it  again.  It  was  immediately  repeated,  but  Bate  recom- 
mended Crofts  to  get  pen  and  ink  from  one  of  the  waiters 
and  write  it  down,  that  he  might  not  forget  it  again. 

While  this  was  being  done,  writes  Bate,  "  a  little  effeminate 
being,  whom  I  afterwards  found  to  be  a  Mr.  Fitz-Gerral, 
came  up  to  me,  dressed  a  la  Macaroni,''  and  impertinently 
asked  whether  any  man  had  not  a  right  to  look  at  a  fine 
woman.  The  man  thus  contemptuously  described  by  Bate, 
it  may  be  remarked  parenthetically,  was  Robert  Fitzgerald, 
still  remembered  as  "  fighting  Fitzgerald,"  the  celebrated 
duellist.  After  getting  over  his  surprise  at  this  unwarranted 
interference  of  a  man  who  was  not  present  at  the  dispute, 
Bate  replied  that  he  would  even  go  so  far  as  to  despise  the 
man  who  did  not  look  at  a  fine  woman ;  but  he  begged  leave 
to  observe  that  there  was  more  than  one  way  of  looking  at 
her,  and  that  the  persons  whom  he  had  censured  had  looked 
at  her  in  such  a  way  that,  he  repeated  once  more,  they  were 
"  four  dirty,  impertinent  puppies."  After  the  exchange  of  a 
few  more  civilities  of  this  kind,  Mr.  Fitzgerald,  in  his  anger, 
clapped  his  hand  to  his  sword,  as  though  he  were  going  to 
draw  on  an  unarmed  man,  when  he  was  interrupted  by 
Captain  Crofts,  who  observed  that  he  presumed  Bate  to  be  a 
clergyman.  Receiving  an  answer  in  the  affirmative,  he  said, 
"  Perhaps  you  will  take  advantage  of  your  profession,  and 
not  give  me  the  satisfaction  I  shall  demand  ?"  He  was  told 
in  reply  that  the  other  would  never  avail  himself  of  that  to 
do  anything  derogatory  to  the  character  of  a  gentleman. 
By  this  time  a  crowd  had  gathered  round,  and  Fitzgerald 
thought  to  score  a  point  by  becoming  very  facetious  on  the 
subject  of  parsons,  whereto  Bate  retaliated  by  making  fun 

85 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

of  the  dress  and  appearance  of  a  Macaroni.  Then  the  crowd 
wanted  to  know  the  cause  of  the  dispute,  and,  of  course, 
gave  the  parson  the  advantage,  for  in  a  short  speech  of  a  few 
sentences  he  was  able  to  convince  them  that  his  opponents 
were  entirely  in  the  wrong ;  whereupon  they  were  hooted 
and  hustled  out  of  the  way,  while  Bate  with  his  company 
took  coach  and  returned  to  town. 

This,  however,  was  onty  the  end  of  the  first  act  of  the 
comedy,  for  in  the  Morning  Post  of  the  following  day  Bate 
went  on  to  tell  what  had  happened  afterwards.  About  two 
o'clock  of  the  morning  following  this  affray  Bate's  servant 
had  wakened  him  to  read  a  letter  which  had  just  come  by  a 
special  messenger  having  the  appearance  of  a  tavern  waiter, 
whose  instructions  were  to  carry  back  an  answer.  The 
letter  was  from  Captain  Crofts,  demanding  satisfaction  and, 
presuming  that  his  fists  were  the  only  weapons  a  reverend 
gentleman  would  fight  with,  requesting  him  to  name  there 
and  then  his  own  place  and  time  for  a  boxing  bout.  If 
refused  this  satisfaction,  the  Captain  genially  declared  he 
would  hunt  the  parson  up  and  down  London  till  he  found 
him,  and  then  would  pull  his  nose,  and  spit  in  his  face,  and 
pull  the  black  coat  off  his  back.  Thus  challenged,  while 
only  half  awake.  Bate  sent  back  word  immediately  that  he 
was  quite  prepared  to  meet  Captain  Crofts  in  his  rooms  at 
Clifford's  Inn  at  a  specified  hour  that  day;  but  later  on  he 
changed  his  mind  and  sent  another  message  to  say  that, 
accompanied  by  a  friend,  he  would  await  Captain  Crofts 
from  two  to  four  o'clock  at  the  "  Turk's  Head  "  coffee-house 
in  the  Strand.  Captain  Crofts,  attended  by  his  friend  the 
Hon.  Mr.  Lyttelton,  duly  arrived;  and  after  a  good  deal  of 
parleying  the  boxing  bout  was  abandoned,  pistols  were 
provided,  and  the  party  made  ready  for  a  jaunt  to  Richmond 
Park. 

Just  as  they  were  about  to  leave  the  place  for  this  purpose 
Fitzgerald  suddenly  broke  into  the  room,  and,  in  an  insolent 
tone   of  voice,  demanded   satisfaction    in  the  name  of  his 

86 


SIR   HENRY   BATE-DUDLEY,   BART. 

friend  "  Capt.  Miles,"  who,  lie  said,  was  waiting  with  the 
utmost  impatience  in  the  adjoining  coffee-room.  How  Fitz- 
gerald knew  that  Bate  was  then  to  be  found  at  the  "  Turk's 
Head,"  seeing  that  the  revised  appointment  had  only  been 
made  just  before  the  specified  time,  was  a  curious  circum- 
stance, the  significance  of  which  did  not  appear  until  after- 
wards. However,  Bate  naturally  replied  that  he  could  only 
fight  one  man  at  a  time,  and  that  he  was  now  engaged  to 
Captain  Crofts.  Moreover,  as  he  had  never  either  seen  or 
heard  of  "  Capt.  Miles,"  he  was  quite  sure  that  he  could 
not  have  offended  him.  Fitzgerald  replied  that  his  friend 
"  Capt.  Miles  "  was  terribly  enraged  ;  that  he  would  only 
fight  the  parson  in  his  own  way,  viz.,  with  his  fists ;  and 
that  if  Bate  did  not  consent  to  box  with  him  instantly  he 
would  knock  the  curate  down  as  he  left  that  room,  or  when- 
ever he  should  first  meet  with  him.  The  two  seconds 
seemed  at  first  to  be  of  opinion  that  Bate  was  bound  to  go 
out  with  Captain  Crofts,  and  consequently  need  take  no 
notice  of  this  other  challenge  which  had  been  sprung  upon 
him  ;  but  after  some  discussion  they  arrived  at  the  conclusion 
that  it  would  be  best  to  patch  up  their  quarrel  by  some 
concessions  made  on  both  sides,  and  thus  leave  Bate  free 
to  deal  with  the  other  matter  as  he  pleased.  Accordingly, 
Captain  Crofts  was  induced  to  declare  that  Mrs.  Hartley 
had  been  ungently  treated,  and  that  Mr.  Bate  had  acted  with 
great  spirit  and  propriety  in  defending  her,  whereupon 
Bate,  on  his  part,  readily  begged  Captain  Crofts'  pardon  for 
any  unguarded  expressions  he  may  have  used  in  consequence 
of  a  misunderstanding.  Captain  Crofts  and  his  second  then 
withdrew,  and  "  Capt.  Miles "  was  introduced.  Bate  at 
once  told  him  that  he  had  never  seen  his  face  before,  and 
was  ignorant  therefore  how  he  could  possibly  have  offended 
him.  "  Capt.  Miles,"  a  fellow  of  herculean  proportions, 
gave  a  rather  confused  answer,  and,  without  making  it  clear 
that  he  had  received  any  personal  affront,  declared  that  he 
was  there  to  take  the  part  of  his  friend  Mr.  Fitzgerald  by 

87 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

boxing  the  parson.  Bate  urged  that  he  was  not  in  the 
habit  of  boxing  with  gentlemen,  whereupon  he  was  informed 
that  if  he  did  not  box  there  and  then  Miles  would  beat  him 
at  Vauxhall  or  in  any  other  public  place  where  they  might 
chance  to  meet.  Bate  being  thus  forced  into  the  distasteful 
encounter,  the  party  adjourned  to  a  large  room  in  the 
"  Spread  Eagle  "  tavern,  where  both  the  champions  stripped 
and  set  to.  Then,  however,  to  the  surprise  of  everybody, 
the  parson,  though  considerably  the  smaller  man,  did  not 
receive  a  single  blow  of  any  consequence,  while  in  about 
fifteen  minutes  the  herculean  Miles  was  clean  knocked  out, 
and  had  to  be  removed  in  a  hackney  coach,  with  his  face 
beaten  into  a  jelly.  It  afterwards  turned  out  (and  Fitz- 
gerald admitted  it)  that  the  so-called  "  Capt.  Miles"  was 
a  great  hulking  pugilistic  servant  of  his,  whom  he  had 
dressed  up  as  a  gentleman  for  the  purpose,  and  that  the 
previous  appointment  with  Crofts  and  the  patching  up  of 
that  quarrel  were  part  of  a  conspiracy  to  get  the  parson 
safely  chastised  by  proxy. 

Similar  affrays  were  by  no  means  uncommon  in  those 
days.  Henry  Angelo  tells  us  that  Vauxhall  was  then  more 
like  a  bear-garden  than  a  place  of  rational  amusement.  The 
price  of  admission  was  one  shilling  only,  and  the  place  was 
crowded  with  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men  and  women, 
citizens  and  their  wives,  apprentices  and  girls  of  the  town, 
fine  gentlemen  and  ladies,  all  being  mingled  together  in  one 
heterogeneous  mob.  Rings  were  continually  being  made  in 
various  parts  of  the  Gardens  to  decide  the  quarrels  that 
perpetually  arose ;  and  whenever  there  happened  to  be  a  lull 
in  this  species  of  sport,  the  light-fingered  gentry  did  not  fail 
to  get  up  mock  quarrels  of  their  own  to  afford  opportunity 
for  the  exercise  of  their  profession.  When  Angelo  came  to 
write  his  "  Reminiscences,"  in  1828,  public  conduct  was  more 
decorous ;  and,  like  an  old  war-horse  scenting  the  battle,  he 
deplored  the  absence  of  "such  glorious  kicks-up''  as  he  had 
enjoyed  in  less  insipid  days. 

88 


SIR   HENRY   BATE-DUDLEY,   BART. 

Amongst  his  other  titles  to  fame,  the  "  fighting  parson  " 
must  be  set  down  as  one  of  the  pioneers  of  modern  journahsm. 
The  Morning  Post  was  started  in  November,  1772,  as  a  rival 
(and  it  very  soon  became  a  powerful  rival)  to  the  Morning 
Chronicle,  which  had  been  founded  three  years  previously. 
Nine  months  later,  at  the  time  of  the  Vauxhall  affray,  Bate 
was  evidently  a  prominent  member  of  the  staif ;  and  he  had 
probably  been  so  from  the  first.  In  politics  the  Post  was, 
according  to  one  of  the  latest  historians  of  our  English 
newspaper  press,  "  a  shameless  organ  of  the  King's  party, 
then  presided  over  by  Lord  North  "  ;  and  it  speedily  acquired 
also  "  an  evil  reputation  as  a  retailer  of  coarse  social  gossip." 
But  we  must  not  judge  either  it  or  Bate  by  our  present  high 
standard  of  journalism.  "  Shameless  organs  "  of  any  party 
are  happily  unknown  in  our  time,  and  our  political  conflicts 
in  the  press  are  always  characterised  by  sweet  reasonableness 
and  the  most  exquisite  courtesy.  Brilliant  and  sparkling 
society  intelligence  we  have,  indeed ;  but  anything  which 
could  be  justly  termed  coarse  social  gossip  has  long  ago 
ceased  to  exist.  Our  modern  papers  furnish  us  with  admir- 
able free  and  dashing  comment  on  the  opinions  and  per- 
formances of  the  men  and  women  of  the  hour,  but  the 
imputation  of  unworthy  motives,  or  the  use  of  vulgar 
Billingsgate,  modern  journalists  would  be  ashamed  to  write 
and  modern  editors  to  print.  But  there  was  a  different 
standard  of  public  taste,  as  of  public  morals,  in  Bate's  time ; 
and,  like  more  recent  practitioners  of  his  craft,  he  realised 
that  the  way  to  make  a  paper  pay  is  to  give  the  public  what 
it  wants.  John  Taylor,  author  of  "  Monsieur  Tonson  "  and 
a  well-known  miscellaneous  writer  of  the  time,  tells  us  that 
before  the  Morning  Post  appeared  newspapers  were  generally 
dull,  heavy,  and  insipid,  and  that  there  was  what  he  terms 
a  "  sportive  severity  "  in  Bate's  writing  which  gave  a  new 
character  to  the  public  press.  Taylor  admits  that  Bate  was 
somewhat  too  free  and  personal  in  his  strictures ;  but  he  says 
also  that  it  ought  to  be  remembered  that  those  whom  he 

89 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

attacked  "  were  generally  characters  of  either  sex  who  had 
rendered  themselves  conspicuous  for  folly,  vice,  or  some 
prominent  absurdity  by  which  they  became  proper  subjects  for 
satirical  animadversion."  One  consequence  of  his  "  sportive 
severity  "  was  that  after  he  assumed  its  editorship,  in  1775,  the 
circulation  of  the  Morning  Post  went  up  by  leaps  and  bounds. 
But  there  were  other  consequences  also,  for  his  style  of 
journalism  has  certain  disadvantages  for  its  practitioners. 
The  modern  editor  has  only  to  reckon  with  the  law  of  libel ; 
his  Georgian  predecessor  had  to  be  ready  to  fight  duels  as 
well.  The  first,  though  by  no  means  the  last,  affair  of  this 
kind  in  which  Bate  was  concerned  occurred  in  January, 
1777.  Some  paragraphs  appeared  in  the  Morning  Post 
reflecting  on  the  character  of  the  Countess  of  Strathmore, 
whose  conduct  had  been  undoubtedly  somewhat  indiscreet. 
A  bankrupt  half-pay  lieutenant  named  Stoney,  who  had 
already  dissipated  in  riotous  living  a  fortune  which  he  had 
acquired  from  a  deceased  wife,  was  then  paying  his  addresses 
to  the  Countess  ;  and  he  naturally  took  up  the  cudgels  in 
her  behalf.  Bate  tried  to  smooth  matters  over  by  saying 
that  the  paragraphs  objected  to  were  inserted  without  his 
knowledge ;  but  this  did  not  satisfy  Stoney,  who  insisted 
upon  the  discovery  of  the  author  or  "  the  satisfaction  of  a 
gentleman."  A  few  days  after  this,  as  the  Gentlejnan's 
Magazine  reports,  they  met,  "  as  it  were  by  accident,"  when — 

"  they  adjourned  to  the  Adelphi,  called  for  a  room,  shut  the  door, 
and,  being  furnished  with  pistols,  discharged  them  at  each  other  without 
eiTect.  They  then  drew  swords,  and  Mr.  Stoney  received  a  wound  in 
the  breast  and  arm,  and  Mr.  Bate  one  in  the  thigh.  Mr.  Bate's  sword 
bent,  and  slanted  against  the  Captain's  breast-bone,  which  Mr.  Bate 
apprising  him  of,  Captain  Stoney  called  to  him  to  straighten  it ;  and  in 
the  interim,  while  the  sword  was  under  his  foot  for  that  purpose,  the 
door  was  broken  open,  or  the  death  of  one  of  the  parties  would  most 
certainly  have  been  the  issue." 

From  the  same  authority  we  learn  that  five  days  afterwards 
Captain  Stoney  was  married  to  the  lady  on  whose  behalf  he 

90 


SIR   HENRY   BATE-DUDLEY,   BART. 

had  thus  hazarded  his  life.  A  story  afterwards  got  abroad 
that  the  brave  "  Captain  "  had  only  engaged  in  a  sham  duel 
with  Bate,  presumably  for  the  purpose  of  furthering  his  suit 
with  the  lady.  But  this  report  was  promptly  denied,  and 
Bate  gave  his  antagonist  a  testimonial  to  the  effect  that  he 
"  bled  like  a  pig." 

Fortunately  for  himself,  Bate  was  both  a  good  shot  and  an 
accomplished  swordsman,  for  although  he  does  not  appear 
to  have  been  a  challenger,  he  was  frequently  in  receipt  of 
amiable  invitations  of  that  kind  from  other  people.  Shortly 
after  the  before-mentioned  affair  he  even  went  out  with  one 
of  the  proprietors  of  his  own  paper.  A  general  meeting  of 
the  proprietors  had  been  held  to  consider  some  plan  by 
which  he  proposed  to  promote  the  prosperity  of  the  paper. 
All  of  them  spoke  against  it,  with  the  exception  of  Mr. 
Joseph  Richardson,  who  kept  silent.  Bate,  in  a  temper, 
called  them  a  parcel  of  cowards,  and  withdrew  from  the 
meeting.  After  he  had  gone  Alderman  Skinner  made  the 
very  safe  threat  that,  if  he  had  not  a  wife  and  family,  he  would 
call  their  editor  to  account  for  the  stigma  which  he  had 
applied  to  them.  Richardson  was  the  only  bachelor  present, 
and  this  put  him  upon  his  mettle  to  obtain  an  apology,  or  at 
least  to  obtain  the  exception  of  himself  from  the  imputation 
of  cowardice.  He  accordingly  wrote  a  rather  high-flown 
letter,  and  sent  it  to  Bate  by  the  hand  of  his  friend  John 
Taylor.  The  answer  was  not  conciliatory,  and,  after  two 
more  letters,  the  parties  arranged  to  meet  at  five  o'clock  one 
morning  in  Hyde  Park.  A  coin  being  tossed  for  first  fire, 
the  lot  fell  to  the  editor,  who  wounded  his  proprietor  in  the 
right  arm,  rendering  him,  of  course,  unable  to  use  his  pistol. 
Bate  then  came  forward  and  said  that  if  Mr.  Richardson's 
letter  had  been  in  a  less  peremptory  style  there  would  have 
been  no  need  for  the  duel,  as  he  held  that  gentleman  in 
respect  and  esteem,  and  would  most  willingly  have  exempted 
him  from  the  imputation.  There  is  an  amusing  pendant  to 
this  story.     Richardson's  second  on  the  field  was  a  friend 

91 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

named  Mills,  who  was  a  surgeon.  As  soon  as  they  reached 
home,  and  Mills  had  examined  the  wound,  he  gave  a  highly 
comical  exhibition  of  a  mixed  emotion.  "  Don't  be  alarmed, 
Joey,"  he  exclaimed  ;  "  this  is  only  a  five-guinea  job  !  "  thus 
showing  the  joy  of  friendship  at  Richardson's  escape  from 
serious  injury,  mingled  with  the  pleasure  of  the  pro- 
fessional man  at  the  prospect  of  getting  a  substantial  fee 
out  of  him. 

The  only  person  that  Bate  can  be  said  to  have  challenged 
was  an  Irish  duellist  of  rather  shady  character,  named 
Brereton.  He  was  one  day  expecting  a  challenge,  and  being 
unprovided  with  arms,  sent  off  to  Brereton,  with  whom  he 
had  been  acquainted  for  some  time,  to  borrow  his  pistols. 
Brereton  was  delighted,  and  when  he  brought  the  weapons 
expatiated  on  their  merits  with  much  enthusiasm.  The 
other  party,  however,  did  not  proceed  to  extremities,  and 
Bate,  therefore,  took  back  the  pistols  unused.  Brereton  was 
greatly  enraged  when  he  found  that  his  darling  pistols  had 
been  borrowed  for  nothing,  and  in  the  heat  of  his  temper 
seemed  inclined  to  fasten  a  quarrel  upon  Bate.  The  more 
conciliatory  the  parson  showed  himself  the  more  furious  the 
Irishman  became,  until  at  last  Bate  quietly  observed,  "  I  see 
what  it  is  you  want ;  I'll  take  this  pistol " — picking  one  of 
them  up — "  you  take  the  other,  and  we'll  settle  the  matter 
immediately."  '*  Ah,"  exclaimed  the  Irishman,  "  I  see  you 
are  a  man  of  spirit ;  but,  as  you  are  an  old  friend,  let  us 
shake  hands  and  consider  the  matter  settled  already."  This 
same  Brereton,  by  the  way,  came  to  a  violent  end  some 
years  later  in  a  Dublin  tavern.  He  was  waiting  at  the 
bottom  of  a  staircase,  sword  in  hand,  ready  to  attack  a  man 
whom  he  expected  to  descend  unprepared.  The  other, 
however,  knowing  the  sort  of  man  with  whom  he  had  to 
deal,  came  down  with  his  sword  drawn,  attacked  Brereton 
first,  and  gave  him  such  wounds  that  he  died  on  the  spot. 

But  the  whole  of  Bate's  energies  were  not  exhausted  by 
journalism  and  duelling.     Amongst  his  other  activities,  he 

92 


SIR   HENRY   BATE-DUDLEY,   BART. 

produced  a  number  of  comic  operas  for  Drury  Lane  Theatre, 
incited  thereto,  perhaps,  by  his  vicar,  Townley,  and  his  friend 
Garrick.     One  or  two  of  them  met  with  moderate  success, 
and  one  or  two  were  damned.     One  historian  of  the  news- 
paper press  stigmatises   Bate  as  a  writer   of    "  hcentious " 
plays.      The  critic  can    never  have  read  his  by  no  means 
brilHant,  but  certainly  quite  inoffensive,  productions.     Such 
of  them  as  the  present  writer  has  examined  are  no  more  witty 
or  wise,  but  neither  are  they  one  whit  more  "licentious," 
than  most  of  the   comic   operas   which   have   pleased   this 
fastidious  generation..    They  are  lively  little  productions  of 
their  kind,  and  contain  several  amusing  characters ;  while, 
although  the    songs  with  which  they  are  interspersed   are 
totally  without  literary  merit,  no  doubt  they  sounded  well 
enough    when    set    to    appropriate    music.      What    "  The 
Blackamoor  Washed  White  "   was  like  it  is  impossible  to 
say,  as  the  piece  was  never  printed ;    but   the   riot   which 
occasioned  its  withdrawal  after  the  fourth  night,  in  February, 
1776,  had  nothing  to  do  with  its  merits  or  demerits  as  a  play. 
From  a  letter  to  Garrick  we  learn  that  the  author  had  availed 
himself  of  some  "  masterly  hints  and  emendations  "  by  the 
great  actor ;  -and  Mrs.  Siddons,  who  had  just  been  engaged 
at  Drury    Lane    on   the   strength  of  Bate's  report  on  her 
performances  at  Bath,  was  given  a  prominent  character  in 
the   piece.      But    the   author   got   wind  that   an   organised 
opposition  was  projected ;   engineered,  it  was  supposed,  by 
some  of  those  who  had  suffered  from  his  satirical  hits  in  the 
Morning   Post ;    and   he  accordingly   engaged  a  number  of 
pugilists  to  give  assistance  if  necessary,  and  planted  all  the 
stalwart  friends  and  supporters  he  could  muster  in  various 
parts  of  the  house.      Henry  Angelo,  who  was  one  of  this 
number,  relates  that  the  clamour  commenced  by  the  opposi- 
tion party  giving  vent  to  cat-calls,  hisses,  and  yells.     The 
author's  friends  responded  by  clapping  of  hands  and  cries  of 
"  Turn  them  out  !  "     And  so  it  went  on  for  some  time,  until 
Bate  indulged  in  a  piece  of  bad  generalship.     A  number  of 

93 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

friends  whom  he  had  collected  behind  the  scenes,  accom- 
panied by  several  well-known  pugilists,  were  made  to  cross 
in  front  of  the  curtain  from  one  stage  door  to  another, 
shaking  their  doubled  fists  and  making  other  menacing 
gestures  towards  the  audience.  This  false  move  enlisted  the 
occupants  of  the  galleries  on  the  side  of  his  opponents,  and 
was  the  signal  for  a  general  attack.  The  occupants  of  the 
boxes  were  pelted  with  showers  of  oranges,  apples,  and  other 
convenient  missiles ;  and  then  there  was  a  rush,  in  which  not 
only  fists,  but  bludgeons,  were  freely  used,  until  the  author's 
party  was  completely  routed.  Bate  seems  to  have  made  no 
further  attempt  at  dramatic  authorship  for  two  or  three 
years;  and  when  his  "  Flitch  of  Bacon"  appeared,  in  1779, 
it  was  unmolested,  and  had  a  good  run.  It  not  only  put 
money  into  the  author's  pocket,  but  it  also  made  the  fortune 
of  William  Shield,  who  was  selected  by  Bate  to  write  the 
music  for  it.  Shield  was  the  son  of  a  provincial  music- 
master,  who,  after  being  apprenticed  to  a  boat-builder,  gave 
up  that  occupation  to  become  a  professional  musician,  like 
his  father.  At  the  time  Bate  picked  him  out  he  was  first 
violin  in  the  orchestra  of  the  Italian  Opera ;  but  this  first 
operatic  venture  of  his  own  was  so  successful  that  he  was 
appointed  composer  in  general  to  Covent  Garden,  and  he 
concluded  a  prosperous  career  by  becoming  Master  of 
Musicians  in  Ordinary  to  the  King. 

In  1780,  being  then  thirty-five  years  of  age  and  a  person 
of  some  consequence  both  in  London  and  in  the  country 
(for  he  was  a  squire,  and  a  justice  of  the  peace  for  the  county 
of  Essex),  Bate  married.  Of  the  lady  of  his  choice  little  is 
known,  except  that  she  was  the  sister  of  the  celebrated 
actress  Mrs.  Hartley,  through  championship  of  whom  in 
Vauxhall  Gardens,  as  we  have  seen,  Bate  had  sprung  into 
fame  (or  notoriety)  seven  years  previously.  Like  Mrs. 
Hartley,  she  is  said  to  have  been  a  great  beauty ;  and,  in  the 
absence  of  any  details  concerning  her,  it  may  be  permissible 
to  give  a  short  account  of  what  is  known  concerning  her  sister, 

94 


SIR   HENRY   BATE-DUDLEY,    BART. 

who  retired  from  the  stage  in  the  same  year  that  Bate  married. 
She  was  very  reticent,  and  always  refused  to  gratify  those 
who  sought  biographical  details  of  her  early  life.  But, 
according  to  an  anonymous  writer  in  the  London  Magazine 
for  1773,  she  was  born  in  1751,  of  obscure  parents  named 
White,  in  the  village  of  Berrow,  in  Somersetshire.  She  was 
both  a  great  beauty  and  a  great  "  romp  "  ;  and  while  acting 
as  domestic  servant  in  a  private  family  she  was  courted  by  a 
lively  and  idle  young  gentleman,  for  whose  sake  she  left  her 
situation,  and  who,  to  avoid  the  curiosity  and  displeasure  of 
his  friends,  assumed  the  name  of  Hartley.  The  young 
gentleman's  resources  becoming  exhausted,  he  suggested  that 
she  should  try  her  fortune  on  the  stage,  which  she  did  with 
astonishing  success.  '*  His  mistress,  of  course,"  observes 
this  writer,  "  had  an  equal  claim  to  it,  and  she  still  keeps 
both  the  lover  and  the  name."  She  still  kept  the  lover  at  the 
time  of  the  Vauxhall  affray,  though  she  apparently  got  rid  of 
him  no  long  time  afterwards ;  the  name  she  retained  until 
her  retirement  from  the  stage.  She  was  a  favourite  sitter  of 
Sir  Joshua  Reynolds ;  and  one  day,  when  he  complimented 
her  on  her  beauty,  she  replied,  "  Nay,  my  face  may  be  well 
enough  for  shape,  but  sure  'tis  as  speckled  as  a  toad's  belly." 
All  who  described  her,  however,  went  into  raptures  over  her. 
One  critic  says  : — 

"  The  whole  form  is  so  admirably  put  together  that  the  parts  seem  to 
be  lost  into  each  other,  and  to  defy  the  eye  with  their  beauties.  The 
features  of  her  face  are  marked  with  the  same  regularity.  Her  eye  is 
lively,  though  not  brilliant,  her  skin  is  not  singularly  fair,  and  her  hair 
is  dark  red.  In  a  word,  taking  her  altogether,  she  gives  one  the  idea  of 
a  Greek  beauty." 

Hull,  the  dramatist,  said  that  he  had  despaired  of  finding 
an  actress  young  and  beautiful  enough  to  represent  Fair 
Rosamond,  and  had  consequently  abandoned  a  play  which 
he  had  begun  on  Henry  the  Second  ;  but  the  happy  suitability 
of  Mrs.  Hartley's  figure,  her  "crisped  locks,  like  threads  of 
gold,"  her  sparkling  eyes,  and  the  softness  and  gentleness  of 

95 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

her  demeanour  had  induced  him  to  take  up  his  unfinished 
tragedy  and  complete  it  for  the  stage.  Two  years  after  her 
retirement  her  death  was  reported  in  the  Gentleman's  Magazine 
for  June,  1782  ;  but  in  the  following  month  the  report  was 
contradicted,  and  the  public  was  assured  that  she  was  living 
in  the  south  of  France,  in  good  health,  "  and  passes  by  the 
name  of  White."  She  appears  to  have  made  enough  while 
on  the  boards  to  keep  her  in  easy  circumstances  for  the 
remainder  of  her  life ;  and  when  she  died,  forty-four  years 
later,  she  left  a  fair  estate. 

Either  just  before  or  just  after  his  marriage.  Bate  quarrelled 
irreconcilably  with  the  proprietors  of  the  Morning  Post,  and 
having  left  them,  he  promptly  started  a  rival  paper,  called 
the  Morning  Herald.  According  to  the  announcement  in  its 
first  number,  it  was  to  be  conducted  on  Liberal  principles  ; 
and  there  was,  of  course,  bitter  rivalry  between  the  two 
papers,  the  Post  becoming  more  Tory  than  ever  and  the 
Herald  enthusiastically  supporting  the  party  of  the  Prince  of 
Wales.  But  Bate  had  not  altogether  got  quit  of  the  Morning 
Post,  for  in  this  same  year  he  was  had  up  before  the  court 
for  a  libel  on  the  Duke  of  Richmond,  which  had  appeared  before 
he  left  the  paper.  The  libel  was  in  the  form  of  a  series  of 
queries,  and  imputed  to  the  Duke  a  variety  of  treasonable 
practices  and  designs,  accusing  him,  amongst  other  things, 
of  having  in  his  speeches  in  the  House  of  Lords  opposed  the 
increase  of  the  military  strength  of  the  kingdom  in  order  to 
facilitate  an  invasion  by  the  French,  and  of  having  conveyed 
intelligence  in  furtherance  of  this  end  to  the  Ministers  of 
France.  Both  Bate  and  the  printer  of  the  paper  were 
sentenced  to  twelve  months'  imprisonment  in  the  King's 
Bench,  the  judgment  being  delayed  for  a  time  to  allow  for 
the  rebuilding  of  the  prison  apartments,  which  had  been 
burnt  during  the  Lord  George  Gordon  riots.  Bate  and  his 
newly  married  wife  occupied  the  two  front  rooms  over  the 
entrance,  where  he  entertained  his  friends  and  spent  a 
tolerably   cheerful    time.      Like    many    other   sons   of    the 

96 


SIR   HENRY   BATE-DUDLEY,    BART. 

Church,  observes  his  friend  Angelo,  he  kept  a  good  table, 
and  was  no  mean  professor  of  gastronomy,  although  he 
always  declared  that  he  was  no  epicure,  two  dishes — a  turbot 
and  a  haunch — being  always  sufficient  for  him,  followed 
occasionally  by  an  apricot  tart.  His  chief  resource  during 
his  confinement  was  the  game  of  cribbage,  at  which  he  was 
very  expert.  Poor  Henry  Angelo  lugubriously  relates  how 
he  played  at  it  there  so  long  one  evening  that  the  gates  were 
shut  on  him,  and  he  had  to  stay  the  night,  when,  although 
he  was  made  as  comfortable  as  the  place  permitted,  and 
Mrs.  Bate  lent  him  a  blanket  from  her  own  bed,  the  horror  of 
being  in  a  prison  prevented  him  from  getting  a  wink  of  sleep. 
Bate,  however,  never  appeared  to  be  out  of  spirits  during 
the  whole  twelvemonth. 

The  Morning  Herald  was  going  strong,  and  Bate  seems  to 
have  been  in  no  want  of  funds,  for  shortly  after  coming  out 
of  prison  he  bought  the  advowson  of  Bradwell-juxta-Mare, 
in  Essex,  for  ^1,500,  subject,  of  course,  to  the  life  of  the 
existing  incumbent,  who  was  a  man  of  infirm  health,  and 
did  not  reside  in  his  parish.  But  creaking  doors  hang  long  ; 
and  the  Rev.  George  Pawson,  by  living  in  a  more  salubrious 
place  and  rehgiously  abstaining  from  his  clerical  duties, 
hung  on  for  another  sixteen  years.  Meanwhile  Bate  obtained 
from  him  a  lease  of  the  glebe  and  tithes,  and  established 
himself  as  curate-in-charge.  The  annual  profits  of  the  place 
were  supposed  to  exceed  £700 ;  but,  as  Bate  told  the  Bishop 
of  London  in  the  course  of  the  controversy  which  after- 
wards arose, — 

"On  going  over  the  glebe  previous  to  the  purchase,  I  found  it  to 
consist  of  about  300  acres  of  land,  but  in  so  ruinous  a  state  from 
inundations,  and  various  causes  of  extreme  neglect,  that  the  tenant  was 
broken  upon  it,  and  no  other  could  be  procured  to  become  its  occupier. 
It  was  destitute  of  every  building  necessary  for  the  conduct  of  the 
business.  On  applying  to  the  farmer  whose  premises  it  adjoined,  he 
declared  to  me  that  he  would  not  possess  it  on  a  lease  of  seven  years 
rent  free.  The  church  and  the  chancel  were  in  a  similar  state,  the 
churchyard  without  fence,  and  its  graves,  even,  disturbed  by  the  hogs 

N.D.  97  H 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

of  the  village.  From  the  then  unhealthiness  of  the  country,  no  rector 
or  vicar  resided  within  many  miles  of  this  deserted  peninsula  ;  nor 
could  a  curate  of  decent  manners  be  found  to  live  there,  on  any  terms, 
for  the  due  discharge  of  the  ordinary  parochial  duties." 

Nevertheless  Bate  bought  the  advowson,  and  went  to 
reside  on  the  spot,  though  not,  we  may  presume,  without 
frequent  excursions  to  London.  Three  years  later,  when  he 
assumed  the  name  of  Dudley,  in  conformity  with  the  will  of 
a  relative  from  whom  he  inherited  a  fortune,  Bate — whom 
we  must  henceforth  call  Dudley,  or  Bate-Dudley — was  able 
to  devote  both  more  time  and  more  money  to  the  interests 
of  the  church  and  parish.     He  says  : — 

"  The  first  steps  I  took  were  to  see  the  church,  with  the  chancel, 
repaired  as  became  a  place  of  public  worship,  to  have  the  services 
of  it  regularly  administered,  to  promote  the  increase  of  a  neglected 
congregation,  to  restore  the  free  school  to  the  useful  purposes  of  its 
institution,  and  to  form  a  poUce  for  the  protection  of  a  country  that 
I  found  lawless.  My  next  objects  were  to  drain  the  glebe  lands,  and 
prevent  the  sea  from  continuing  to  overflow  them,  for  which  I  was 
honoured  by  the  Society  of  Arts  and  Sciences  with  a  reward  of  their 
gold  medal." 

The  dilapidated  rectory  was  turned  into  a  handsome 
country  house,  which  thenceforth  became  well  known  as 
Bradwell  Lodge,  where  Bate-Dudley  entertained  liberally, 
and  played  the  part  of  squire  and  magistrate  as  well  as  that 
of  parson.  Henry  Angelo  records  that  he  had  spent  many  a 
pleasant  day  there  in  company  with  other  friends ;  and  one 
or  two  of  his  garrulous  reminiscences  are  rather  amusing  : — 

"  Once,  I  recollect,  his  guests  then  on  a  visit  there  had  been  promised 
to  be  entertained  with  a  supper  a  I'ltalian,  in  which  I  played  the  part 
of  chief  cuisinier,  arrayed  in  a  proper  costume.  The  pleasantry  which 
occurred  in  the  kitchen  on  this  occasion  was  such  as  would  have  worked 
well  into  a  scene  for  a  comedy.  Among  other  guests  was  a  French 
officer,  who,  affecting  the  Amphitrion  and  grande  critique  gastronomique, 
with  true  French  fanfaronade  abused  every  dish,  and  boasted  his 
native  cookery  above  all  other,  ancient  or  modern.  Batc-Dudley 
whispered,  '  Now  mark  you,  I'll  roast  Monsieur.'  Which  he  did  to  a 
turn  of  the  spit,  and,  with  that  delectable  badinage  at  which  he  was  so 

98 


SIR   HENRY   BATE-DUDLEY,    BART. 

great  an  adept,  proved  to  all  the  company  that  Monsieur  le  Capitaine 
must  have  been  originally  himself  a  cuisinier.  This  produced  mighty 
amusement,  as  a  wag  of  the  party  helped  on  the  frolic  by  dubbing 
Monsieur — another  Captain  Cook  1  " 

Bate-Dudley  was  a  keen  sportsman,  and  kept  a  pack  of 
harriers,  as  poor  Angelo,  who  does  not  mind  teUing  a  good 
story  against  himself,  had  cause  to  remember,  for,  having 
boasted  one  night  in  his  cups  of  his  feats  of  horsemanship, 
his  host  made  him  ride  to  hounds  next  day  on  a  particularly 
vicious  and  harum-scarum  beast,  so  that,  being  in  reality  a 
very  poor  horseman,  he  was  in  an  agony  of  fear  for  his  life 
all  the  time,  and  returned  home,  as  he  admits,  bumped  and 
bruised  "  worse  than  a  City  apprentice  at  the  Epping  hunt." 

Dudley  was  likewise  a  bold  and  dexterous  yachtsman, 
whereof  also  Angelo  preserved  an  uncomfortable  memory: — 

"  Once  he  tempted  me  to  an  excursion  in  a  boat  which  to  many 
would  have  appeared  not  seaworthy.  '  Come,  Harry,  my  boy,'  said  he, 
'  to-morrow  will  be  lamb  fair  at  Ipswich  ;  we  can  sail  to  Harwich,  and 
tramp  onwards  to  Ipswich ;  we  will  make  a  day  of  it,  and  see  what  is 
to  be  seen ;  there  will  be  plenty  of  amusement,  I  promise  you  :  so  rise 
in  the  morning  betimes.'  The  vessel  was  ready ;  and  having  provided 
a  bottle  of  cognac,  with  some  other  more  substantial  ^ro^,  we  embarked. 
'  Where  is  the  crew  ? '  said  I.  '  There  I  '  said  he,  pointing  to  a  rough- 
visaged  old  boatman,  and  a  boy  to  steer;  adding,  'Old  Tooke  and 
Parson  Bate  in  this  cock-boat  would  cross  the  Atlantic,  wouldn't  we, 
my  old  Trojan  ? '  '  Aye,  Master  Bate,  that  we  would,  or  we'd  sink 
afore  we  gave  it  up.  Why,  young  man '  (addressing  himself  to  me, 
who  doubtless  looked  pale  enough,  as  the  black  clouds  prognosticated 
a  storm),  '  I  and  Master  there  would  double  the  Cape  in  her :  she's  a 
tight  old  boat,  and  dances  over  the  water  like  a  cork,'  Such  a  dance 
I  was  never  led,  before  nor  since  ;  for  it  blew  a  hurricane,  and  we  were 
driven  about,  nearly  swamped,  lost  our  kitchen,  were  wrecked  in  the 
mud,  and  scrambled  ashore  in  the  dark ;  our  captain,  old  Tooke,  and 
the  young  cockswain  enjoying  the  funk  into  which  they  had  got  a 
fresh-water  sailor." 

Such  frolics  as  these  greatly  delighted  the  energetic  and 
athletic  parson,  and  it  seems  to  have  been  in  a  similar  spirit 
of  sportive  adventure  that  he  tackled  the  poachers  and  the 
smugglers  of  the  district.     He  was  a  magistrate,  says  the 

99  H  2 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

Gentleman's  Magazine,  who  never  slept  at  his  post,  and  some 
of  whose  enterprises  against  the  lawless  were  quite  extra- 
ordinary. Once  again  we  may  draw  upon  Henry  Angelo's 
artless  and  garrulous  narrative  for  a  concrete  instance  : — 

"  At  the  commencement  of  his  office,  the  neighbourhood  had  been 
greatly  infested  by  that  worst  of  varment  (to  use  the  gamekeeper's 
phrase)  the  poacher.  A  certain  lonely  cottage  had  been  pointed  out 
to  his  worship  as  the  nightly  rendezvous  of  a  determined  gang  of  the 
robbers.  He  had  his  secret  informer,  who  had  been  a  confederate ; 
and  one  night,  when  they  were  met  to  settle  their  plan  of  depredations, 
Mr.  Bate  rapped  at  the  door.  It  was  immediately  opened,  when  he 
beheld  the  ruffians,  each  of  whom  instantly  seized  his  loaded  piece. 
'  Put  your  guns  away,  ye  rogues.  Know  ye  not  that  I  am  Justice 
Bate  ?  '  exclaimed  the  magistrate,  with  a  determined  air,  looking 
deliberately  around.  '  Rogues  1  I  know  ye  all.  Give  me  your  gun, 
fellow  '  (to  the  nearest).  '  You  had  better  stand  off,'  said  the  poacher. 
Sir  Dudley"  [sic)  " immediately  took  him  by  the  collar,  and  wrested  it 
from  him.  '  Lay  down  your  pieces,  every  one  of  you — resist  at  your 
peril  .  .  .  lay  down  your  arms,  I  say,  and  go  home  to  your  families, 
you  wicked  ruffians.'  Appalled  at  his  firmness,  each  laid  his  piece 
upon  the  table  ;  and  he  turned  them  out.  Then,  going  to  the  door  and 
shouting  '  Constables ! '  the  fellows  took  to  their  heels,  and  a  party  of 
the  police  who  were  in  attendance  came  in,  and  the  weapons,  with 
guns,  snares,  and  other  implements  for  destroying  game,  were  collected 
and  borne  away  without  the  least  resistance.  And  by  this  one  act  of 
intrepidity  the  bold  magistrate  broke  up  the  gang." 

But  when  the  Rev.  George  Pawson  was  gathered  to  his 
fathers,  in  1797,  and  Dudley  presented  himself  to  the  Hving  of 
Bradwell,  the  Bishop  of  London  refused  to  institute  on  the 
ground  of  simony.  This  objection  was  doubtless  only  a  legal 
excuse  which  happened  to  lie  ready  to  the  bishop's  hand, 
and  the  real  cause  of  his  refusal  was  probably  disapproval  of 
the  character  of  the  fighting  parson.  In  addition  to  the  other 
somewhat  unclerical  characteristics  and  accomplishments 
which  have  been  enumerated,  Dudley  had  recently  been 
defendant  in  an  action  for  crim.  con.  after  having  some  time 
previously  fought  a  duel  with  the  husband,  and  although  the 
verdict  had  been  given  in  his  favour,  his  defence  had  been 
mainly  based  upon  technical  grounds.     However  this  may 

100 


SIR   HENRY   BATE-DUDLEY,   BART. 

be,  after  a  long  controversy  and  the  institution  of  a  suit 
which  never  came  into  court,  a  compromise  was  arrived  at 
according  to  which  Dudley's  brother-in-law,  the  Rev.  R. 
Birch,  was  to  be  collated  to  the  living.  It  was  then  dis- 
covered that,  in  consequence  of  the  patron  having  failed  to 
exercise  his  right  within  a  specified  time,  the  next  presenta- 
tion had  lapsed  to  the  Crown,  whereupon  the  Rev.  Richard 
Gamble,  Chaplain-General  to  the  Forces,  was  appointed  to 
the  living.  There  was  great  indignation  in  the  county,  for 
Dudley  seems  to  have  been  extremely  popular;  and,  little 
as  we  hear  of  any  spiritual  ministrations  to  his  parishioners, 
he  deserved  to  be,  for  he  had  not  only  restored  the  church 
and  school  of  Bradwell,  but,  at  a  total  cost  to  himself  of 
^^28,000,  he  had  reclaimed  a  large  tract  of  land  from  the 
inroads  of  the  sea,  thus  turning  a  pestilential  swamp  into  a 
healthy  and  habitable  district,  had  made  the  roads  passable, 
and  so  had  improved  not  only  the  village  itself,  but  the  whole 
neighbourhood  for  miles  round.  The  news  of  Gamble's 
appointment  happening  to  reach  Chelmsford  during  the 
assizes,  the  assembled  magistrates  promptly  despatched  a 
message  to  Pitt  in  favour  of  Dudley.  Subsequently  a  memorial 
was  sent  to  Addington  signed  by  several  peers,  as  well  as  by  the 
whole  lay  magistracy  of  the  county,  to  the  following  effect : — 

"  We,  the  Lord  Lieutenant,  High  Sheriff,  and  Magistrates  of  the 
County  of  Essex,  having  perused  and  duly  considered  the  memorial  and 
case  of  the  Rev.  Henry  Bate-Dudley,  have  great  satisfaction  in  offering 
this  testimony  of  our  opinion  of  the  additional  and  recent  services  which 
he  has  rendered  to  the  public,  by  stating — That  in  the  course  of  the 
last  summer  he  suppressed  an  alarming  and  dangerous  insurrection 
within  the  district  wherein  which  he  resides,  by  personally  securing 
and  bringing  to  conviction  the  ringleaders  thereof;  for  which  he  received 
the  thanks  of  the  Lord  Chief  Justice,  Lord  Kenyon,  at  the  Assizes,  and 
also  those  of  the  Magistrates  at  their  General  Quarter  Sessions. 

"  Fully  sensible  of  the  importance  of  Mr.  Dudley's  services  on  this 
and  various  other  occasions,  and  also  of  the  extreme  hardship  of  his 
case,  we  feel  it  due  to  him  thus  to  declare  that  any  means  which  may 
be  adopted  for  the  alleviation  of  its  pressure  will  prove  highly  acceptable 
and  satisfactory  to  our  county,  which  has  for  so  many  years  been  so 
essentially  benefitted  by  his  pubhc  exertions." 

lOI 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

After  receiving  the  foregoing  address  Addington  expressed 
himself  as  cordially  disposed,  and  in  the  course  of  a  debate 
in  the  House  of  Commons  Sheridan  took  occasion  to  refer 
to  the  hardness  of  Dudley's  case.  Dudley  himself  bore  his 
losses  with  fortitude,  and  made  no  attempt,  as  he  might 
have  been  expected  to  do,  to  arouse  public  sympathy  by 
journalistic  means;  but  nothing  was  done  by  way  of  recom- 
pense until  1804,  when  he  was  presented  to  the  out-of-the- 
way  and  comparatively  poor  rectory  of  Kilscoran,  in  county 
Wexford.  He  resided  in  Ireland  with  little  intermission  for 
about  eight  years,  receiving  during  the  course  of  that  time, 
in  addition  to  Kilscoran,  the  chancellorship  of  the  diocese  of 
Ferns  and  the  rectory  of  Kilglass,  in  county  Longford.  In 
1812  he  resigned  these  benefices,  and  left  Ireland  on  being 
presented  to  the  rectory  of  Willingham,  in  Cambridgeshire. 
Mr.  Gamble  had  died  in  the  previous  year;  and  he  had  pre- 
sented his  brother-in-law,  as  arranged  with  the  bishop,  to 
the  living  of  Bradwell. 

In  1813,  in  recognition  of  his  many  services  to  the  public, 
including,  of  course,  his  journalistic  support  of  the  party  of 
the  Prince  of  Wales,  Dudley  was  created  a  baronet.  In 
1816,  though  over  seventy  years  of  age,  he  showed  something 
of  his  old  energy  in  the  suppression  of  the  riots  which  then 
occurred  in  the  eastern  counties.  Horses,  barns,  and  corn- 
stacks  had  been  set  on  fire,  and  cattle,  corn,  and  instruments 
of  husbandry  destroyed,  by  the  rioters  in  various  parts  of 
Norfolk,  Suffolk,  Huntingdon,  and  Cambridge ;  but  on 
May  23rd  the  main  body  of  the  insurgents  were  defeated 
near  Ely  by  the  exertions  of  Dudley  and  another  clerical 
magistrate,  aided  by  a  troop  of  yeomanry,  a  small  detach- 
ment of  dragoons,  and  a  few  of  the  disbanded  militia.  The 
rioters  fired  on  the  troops  and  magistrates  from  barricaded 
houses,  but  they  were  soon  driven  out  and  put  to  flight,  one 
hundred  or  more  being  taken  prisoners.  When  the  assizes 
met  in  June  the  grand  jury  voted  their  unanimous  thanks  to 
these  magistrates  for  their  spirited,  prudent,  and  energetic 

102 


SIR   HENRY   BATE-DUDLEY,   BART. 

conduct ;  and  in  the  following  month  the  justices  resolved 
to  present  Dudley  with  a  piece  of  plate  to  show  their  appre- 
ciation of  his  services.     The  grand  jury  also  recommended 
that  the  "  excellent "  sermon  which  Dudley  preached  before 
the  judges  of  assize  in   Ely  Cathedral  should  be  printed. 
This  was  a  pity,  because,  however  able  his  magisterial  and 
military  tactics  may  have  been,  the  printed  pamphlet  obliges 
us  to  say  that  his  preaching  was  of  very  inferior  quality. 
He  was  made  a  prebend  of  Ely  in  1817,  however,  and  con- 
tinued to  reside  there — though  it  is  to  be  hoped  he  did  not 
often  preach — until  within  a  few  months  of  his  death.     In 
later  years  his  financial  position  appears  to  have  become  less 
satisfactory,  and  after  parting  with  certain  other  property  in 
Essex  he  was  obliged  in  1819  to  dispose  of  the  advowson  of 
Bradwell,  which  had  cost  him  so  much  both  in  trouble  and 
in  money.   The  purchaser  was  lucky,  for  the  very  day  after  it 
was  sold  Dudley's  brother-in-law,  the  incumbent,  was  seized 
with  a  sudden  illness  and  died.     Dudley  himself  survived 
until  February,  1824,  when,  after  a  short  illness,  he  expired 
at   Cheltenham,  in    his   seventy-ninth  year.     By  a   strange 
coincidence  his  sister-in-law,  "  Mrs.  Hartley,"  the  heroine  of 
the  Vauxhall  affray,  died  at  Woolwich  on  the  same  day. 
He  had  no  issue,  and  at  his  death  the  baronetcy  became 
extinct. 

In  private  life  Dudley  was  social  and  hospitable,  and  both 
he  and  his  wife  were  noted  for  their  charitable  benevolence. 
He  was  possessed  of  some  artistic  sensibility,  for  he  was  one 
of  the  earliest  of  the  admirers  both  of  Mrs.  Siddons  and  of 
Mrs.  Jordan ;  he  was  a  patron  of  Gainsborough  ;  and  the 
discoverer  of  Shield,  the  composer.  He  must  be  admitted 
to  have  had  some  mind  as  well  as  a  superabundance  of 
muscle.  He  achieved  extraordinary  success  as  a  journalist. 
And  perhaps  what  he  did  for  the  material  well-being  of  his 
parishioners  at  Bradwell  may  be  considered  to  atone  in  some 
degree  for  his  deficiency  in  more  spiritual  ministrations. 
But,  after  all,  one  suspects  that  he  missed  his  vocation.     His 

103 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

dealings  with  poachers,  and  smugglers,  and  rioters  in  Essex, 
his  plans  for  the  protection  of  the  sea  coast  (which  an 
astonished  general  entrusted  with  that  business  declared  that 
he  would  be  entirely  guided  by),  together  with  his  character- 
istic qualities  both  of  body  and  of  mind,  all  tend  to  confirm 
the  judgment  of  certain  of  his  friends  that  in  the  army  he 
must  inevitably  have  risen  to  great  distinction.  He  may  be 
cited  as  a  capital  instance  of  the  square  peg  in  the  round 
hole,  for  few  will  doubt  that  the  "  fighting  parson  "  ought  to 
have  been  a  soldier. 


104 


Andrew  Robinson  Bowks. 

From  an  engraving. 


Ill 


A    HUNTED    HEIRESS— THE   COUNTESS 
OF    STRATHMORE 


Ill 


A   HUNTED    HEIRESS— MARY    ELEANOR, 
COUNTESS   OF   STRATHMORE 

In  the  year  1812,  or  thereabout,  Dr.  Jesse  Foot,  a  London 
surgeon,  whose  extensive  practice  and  many  medical  pubHca- 
tions  had  made  him  no  inconsiderable  rival  of  hiscontemporary 
the  great  John  Hunter,  determined  to  put  upon  record  for 
the  benefit  of  posterity  some  particulars  of  the  lives  of  two  of 
his  patients  then  recently  deceased.  Dr.  Foot  maintained 
the  theory  that  every  piece  of  biography  should  have  a  moral 
aim ;  but  he  elected  to  deal  with  the  lives  of  the  Countess  of 
Strathmore  and  Mr.  Bowes,  not  because  these  were  excep- 
tionally estimable  persons,  but,  on  the  contrary,  because, 
although  "  situated  on  the  summit  of  fortune  "  and  blessed 
with  all  the  advantages  that  birth,  education,  and  wealth 
could  confer,  they  had  made  shipwreck  of  their  lives,  and,  in 
his  opinion,  might  well  stand  as  a  lesson  and  a  warning  to 
future  generations.  His  two  patients  were  undoubtedly 
persons  of  very  peculiar  temperaments,  and  he  sets  out  by 
saying  that — 

"  Neither  of  them  received  one  single  check  from  any  compunctious 
visitings  of  nature  ;  neither  of  them  had  disciplined  their  minds  by  the 
strict  observance  of  any  rule  of  right ;  both  of  them  appeared  as  if  they 
had  been  taken  from  a  land  not  yet  in  a  state  of  civilisation,  and  dropped 
by  accident  where  they  have  been  found." 

But  the  good  doctor's  psychology  was  wholly  unequal  to  the 
task  which  he  proposed  to  himself;  and  instead  of  making 
an  analysis  of  the  peculiar  temperaments  of  these  patients, 
or  inquiring  how  they  came  to  possess  such  temperaments, 

107 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

or  giving  any  indication,  such  as  his  exordium  seemed  to 
promise,  of  the  means  by  which  future  generations  might 
ensure  better  temperaments,  he  contented  himself  with  a  bare 
recital  of  biographical  facts,  interspersed  with  passages  of 
vigorous  and  warrantable,  but  altogether  unilluminating, 
denunciation.  However,  he  had  a  very  interesting,  if  also 
very  painful,  story  to  tell ;  and  he  was  otherwise  well  enough 
equipped  for  the  purpose,  having  during  a  professional 
attendance  of  over  thirty  years  acquired  a  good  deal  of  first- 
hand and  intimate  knowledge  of  the  parties,  and  having  also, 
after  their  death,  become  possessed  of  a  number  of  their 
letters.  If  Dr.  Foot's  story  were  uncorroborated,  he  might 
have  been  suspected  of  gross  exaggeration ;  but  many  of  the 
most  astonishing  particulars  in  the  following  narrative  have 
been  taken,  not  from  his  book,  but  from  the  shorthand 
reports  of  the  various  trials  in  which  his  two  unhappy 
patients  became  involved.  Readers  of  the  dramatic  litera- 
ture of  the  Georgian  era  have  probably  sometimes  wondered 
whether  such  brutal  men  and  such  silly  women  as  are  therein 
represented  could  ever  have  had  any  existence  except  upon 
the  stage.  A  perusal  of  the  following  pages  will  make  it 
clear  that  some  real  specimens  were  to  be  found  in  the  seats  of 
the  country  gentry  and  in  the  mansions  of  Grosvenor  Square. 
Mary  Eleanor  Bowes  was  the  only  child  and  sole  heiress 
of  George  Bowes,  M.P.,  of  Streatlam  Castle  and  Gibside, 
county  Durham.  He  was  a  man  of  great  wealth,  who,  in 
addition  to  extensive  landed  estates,  possessed  a  large  interest 
in  several  coal  mines.  The  ancient  lordship  of  Streatlam, 
neighboured  on  east,  west,  and  north  by  the  estates  and 
castles  of  the  Nevilles  and  the  Beauchamps,  was  one  of  the 
most  considerable  seats  in  the  county.  Gibside  as  it  then 
was  we  get  some  notion  of  from  the  correspondence  of  Mrs. 
Elizabeth  Montagu.  In  1753,  four  years  after  Mary  Eleanor 
was  born,  Mr.  Montagu,  who  was  then  on  a  visit  there,  told 
his  wife  that,  although  all  the  gentlemen  of  the  county  were 
emulously  planting  and  adorning  their  seats,  nothing  came 

108 


MARY  ELEANOR,  COUNTESS  OF  STRATHMORE 

up  to  the  magnificence  of  what  was  being  done  by  Mr. 
Bowes.  The  house  itself  was  an  indifferent  one,  but  he  had 
added  to  it  a  great  "  Gothic  "  banqueting  room,  wherein  he 
gave  splendid  concerts,  at  which  famous  Italian  and  other 
singers  were  brought  down  to  perform.  And  he  was  then 
building  in  his  grounds  a  column  140  feet  high,  for  what  purpose 
save  ostentation  Mr.  Montagu  does  not  say,  but  only  that  it 
promised  to  be  the  largest  ever  erected  by  a  subject  in  the 
kingdom  and  would  only  be  eclipsed  by  the  Monument  in 
London.  The  house  stood  in  the  midst  of  a  great  wood  of 
about  400  acres,  through  which  there  were  many  noble 
walks  and  rides,  interspersed  with  fine  lawns ;  and  a  rough 
river  ran  through  the  domain,  having  high  rocks  on  either 
bank,  making  altogether  a  highly  beautiful  and  romantic 
scene.  George  Bowes  died  in  September,  1760  ;  and  Mrs. 
Montagu  wrote  to  a  correspondent  saying  that  her  husband 
had  gone  to  attend  the  funeral  obsequies,  which,  according 
to  the  custom  of  the  county,  were  to  be  very  pompous.  All 
the  gentlemen  of  Northumberland  and  Durham  were  to  be 
present,  and  she  supposed  there  would  be  three  or  four 
hundred  coaches.  A  fortnight  or  so  after  this  event  we  get 
our  first  glimpse  of  Mary  Eleanor,  who  was  then  eleven  years 
of  age,  and  who  apparently  had  not  created  a  very  favour- 
able impression  on  some  of  her  father's  friends,  for  we  find 
Lord  Lyttelton  writing  to  Mrs.  Montagu  : — 

"  As  his  vanity  descends  with  his  estate  to  his  daughter,  I  don't  wish 
to  see  her  my  daughter-in-law,  though  she  would  make  my  son  one  of 
the  richest,  and  consequently,  in  our  present  ideas  of  greatness,  one  of 
the  great  peers  of  the  realm.  But  she  will  probably  be  the  prize 
of  some  needy  Duke,  who  will  want  her  estate  to  repair  the  dissipations 
of  Newmarket  and  Arthur's,  or,  if  she  marries  for  love,  of  some  ensign 
of  the  Guards,  or  smart  militia  captain." 

The  "good"  Lord  Lyttelton  certainly  proved  to  be  some- 
thing of  a  prophet,  for  the  young  lady  fell  a  prize,  in  the  first 
place,  to  a  needy  peer,  and,  in  the  second  place,  to  a  smart 
half-pay   army   officer.      The   precious    son    for    whom    he 

109 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

thought  she  would  be  such  a  bad  bargain  became  notorious 
as  "the  bad  Lord  Lyttelton  "  ;  and  whether  he  could  have 
been  any  worse  if  he  had  married  her,  or  whether  she  could 
have  had  a  more  unhappy  lot  if  united  to  him,  are  questions 
on  which  the  reader  may  be  left  to  speculate  if  he  happens  to 
be  that  way  disposed. 

According  to  Mary  Eleanor's  own  account,  her  father, 
who  was  uncommonly  handsome,  and  uncommonly  idle,  and 
a  great  rake,  in  his  youth,  became  as  he  grew  older  uncom- 
monly pious.  He  endeavoured  to  train  her,  she  says,  in  such 
a  way  that  she  might  turn  out  as  accomplished  at  the  age  of 
thirteen  as  his  first  and  favourite  wife  had  been  at  that  age. 
Amongst  other  things,  he  trained  her  to  make  speeches 
before  company,  and  to  learn  by  heart  and  then  declaim 
long  passages  out  of  Milton  and — Ovid's  "  Metamorphoses." 
But,  she  assures  us,  although  she  read  the  Bible  as  well 
as  Milton,  the  care  with  which  she  was  instructed  in  the 
classical  mythology  made  her  somewhat  doubtful  whether 
she  ought  to  profess  Christianity  or  paganism  !  Whatever 
her  accomplishments  may  have  been,  she  was,  naturally 
enough,  much  sought  after  by  heiress-hunters,  titled  and 
otherwise  ;  and,  naturally  enough,  she  flirted  with  a  good 
many  of  them  for  a  time  without  committing  herself.  One 
night  at  Almack's,  for  example,  there  was  a  quarrel,  which 
set  the  whole  room  in  an  uproar  and  nearly  ended  in  a 
duel,  between  Lord  Mountstuart  and  a  Mr.  Chaloner,  over  a 
dispute  as  to  which  of  them  should  sit  next  her  at  supper, 
when  the  young  lady  innocently  declared  that  she  had  not 
given  any  encouragement  to  either  of  them.  But  she  was 
too  great  a  prize  to  remain  uncaptured  for  long  ;  and  before 
she  had  completed  her  eighteenth  year  she  accepted  the 
addresses  of  John  Lyon,  ninth  Earl  of  Strathmore.  Her 
mother  objected  to  her  choice;  but  nevertheless  on  Feb- 
ruary 24th,  1767,  they  were  married  from  her  country  house 
at  Paul's  Walden,  in  Hertfordshire,  and  a  fortnight  later  went 
off  to  spend  their  honeymoon  at  Gibside. 

no 


MARY  ELEANOR,  COUNTESS   OF   STRATHMORE 

John,  Earl  of  Strathmore,  a  Scotchman,  then  thirty  years 
of  age,  was  reputed  to  be  a  good  friend  and  a  good  bottle 
companion,  but  he  can  scarcely  have  been  altogether  an 
appropriate  husband  for  the  flighty  and  eccentric  young 
woman  he  had  married.  He  had  no  controlling  influence 
over  her,  and  he  had  no  sympathy  with  the  literary  and 
scientific  hobbies  to  which  she  was  devoted.  He  made  no 
complaints  about  her  filling  the  house  with  flatterers  and 
pedants  and  what  Foot  describes  as  "  learned  domestics." 
With  him,  the  property  was  evidently  the  main  thing  ;  and 
having  added  the  name  of  Bowes  to  his  own  surname,  in 
recognition  of  the  financial  benefits  he  had  received,  he 
seems  to  have  gone  quietly  his  own  way  and  left  his  wife  to 
go  hers.  Of  course  she  became  surrounded  by  designing 
people,  who  called  her  "  the  patroness  of  all  the  arts,"  and 
egged  her  on  from  one  extravagant  hobby  to  another,  out  of 
which  they  found  their  own  advantage.  Foot  says  that  she 
had  a  really  considerable  knowledge  of  botany,  though  she 
adopted  a  very  extravagant  way  of  showing  it,  for  she 
purchased  a  fine  old  mansion,  with  extensive  walled-in 
gardens,  at  Upper  Chelsea,  and  there  built  a  series  of  costly 
and  elaborate  hothouses  and  conservatories  for  the 
preservation  and  cultivation  of  exotic  plants,  which  her 
agents  procured,  at  great  expense,  from  every  available 
quarter  of  the  globe.  She  had  some  acquaintance  with 
several  languages,  and  she  believed  herself  to  have  great 
literary  faculty,  if  not,  indeed,  poetic  genius.  What  her 
faculty  amounted  to  may  be  estimated  from  the  ambitious 
five-act  tragedy,  in  blank  verse  (very  blank  verse),  entitled 
"  The  Siege  of  Jerusalem,"  which  she  had  printed  for  private 
distribution  in  1774.  It  is  very  poor  stuff  indeed,  without  a 
single  image  or  the  semblance  of  a  thought  in  it  from 
beginning  to  end ;  and  the  feeble  story  is  told  in  even  feebler 
verse,  whose  halting  lines,  some  too  long  and  some  too  short, 
it  is  impossible  to  scan.  Many  young  persons,  both  before 
and  since,  believing  themselves  to  be  literary  geniuses,  have 

III 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

proved  the  contrary  by  producing  equally  worthless  composi- 
tions. Of  course,  had  she  lived  in  our  twentieth  century,  her 
story  would  have  been  written  in  prose  instead  of  in  verse, 
and,  by  lavish  advertisement  of  it  as  "the  Countess  of 
Strathmore's  great  novel,"  might  have  been  boomed  into  the 
success  of  a  season.  But  these  halcyon  days  were  yet  to 
come. 

There  were  five  children  of  the  marriage,  two  daughters 
and  three  sons;  but  poor  Lord  Strathmore,  whose  health 
was  never  very  robust,  broke  down  altogether  in  1775,  and 
when  the  winter  came  on  was  ordered  off  to  the  milder 
climate  of  Lisbon,  where  he  died  of  consumption  on 
March  7th,  1776.  It  might  have  been  thought  that,  as  Lady 
Strathmore  did  not  accompany  her  husband,  she  had 
remained  behind  to  look  after  her  children  ;  but  although  she 
had  an  inordinate  affection  for  cats  and  dogs,  her  children 
seem  to  have  received  very  little  of  her  care,  and  for  her 
eldest  son  in  particular  she  appears  to  have  conceived  an 
unnatural  dislike.  As  soon  as  Lord  Strathmore  was  dead 
she  began  to  live  the  life  of  a  merry  widow,  so  that  her  own 
as  well  as  her  husband's  relatives  were  shocked  and  held 
aloof  from  her.  Before  many  months  had  elapsed  there  was 
talk  of  her  marrying  again ;  and  it  was  currently  reported 
that  she  had  received  the  addresses  of  a  Mr.  George  Gray, 
an  AngloTndian,  forty  years  of  age  or  thereabout,  who  had 
served  under  Clive  in  no  very  high  capacity,  but  who  had 
returned  home  with  a  large  fortune  and  set  about  purchas- 
ing land  in  Scotland  by  way  of  becoming  a  pillar  of  the 
British  Constitution.  Gray  visited  her  constantly,  and  they 
went  about  openly  together  in  such  a  fashion  as  provided 
delectable  journalistic  material  for  Parson  Bate's  Morning 
Post,  wherein  appeared  a  series  of  paragraphs  and  letters 
concerning  "the  Countess  of  Grosvenor  Square,"  alluding 
to  her  cold  indifference  to  her  late  husband  during  the  days 
of  his  sickness,  suggesting  that,  instead  of  indulging  in 
indecent  levity,  she  would  be  better  employed  in  her  closet 

112 


MARY  ELEANOR,  COUNTESS   OF   STRATHMORE 

"  perusing  the  letters  she  had  received  from  her  fond  and 
doating  noble  lord,  or  in  visiting  her  eldest  son,  whom  she  had 
forsaken,"  with  other  reflections  on  her  character  and 
conduct.  Her  late  husband's  relatives  seem  to  have  been 
rather  pleased  than  otherwise  with  these  attacks  in  the 
Morning  Post,  imagining  that  they  might  perhaps  put  a  stop  to 
her  marriage,  which  they  strongly  opposed  in  the  interest 
of  her  children  ;  at  any  rate,  they  did  nothing  to  stop  the 
libels.  But  just  as  the  marriage  appeared  to  be  a  foregone 
conclusion  another  candidate  appeared  on  the  scene.  Of 
him  it  will  be  necessary  to  say  a  few  introductory  words. 

Andrew  Robinson  Stoney,  a  half-pay  lieutenant,  thirty 
years  of  age,  was  a  cadet  of  a  good  old  EngHsh  family  which 
had  been  settled  in  county  Tipperary  for  near  a  hundred  years, 
where  they  possessed  considerable  property.  When  his 
regiment  was  disbanded,  he  boasted  of  being  the  youngest 
lieutenant  of  foot  who  had  ever  been  placed  upon  half-pay. 
At  the  age  of  twenty-two  he  had  managed  to  captivate  and 
marry  Hannah,  sole  daughter  and  heiress  of  William  Newton, 
of  Newcastle-on-Tyne,  a  young  lady  who  possessed  a  fortune 
of  ;£'30,ooo.  Stoney  was  evidently  a  man  of  insinuating 
address,  although,  judging  by  Foot's  description  of  him,  he 
cannot  have  had  a  very  captivating  appearance. 

"  His  height  was  more  than  five  feet  ten ;  his  eyes  were  bright  and 
small;  he  had  a  perfect  command  over  them  ;  his  brows  were  low, 
large,  and  sandy ;  his  hair  light,  and  his  complexion  muddy ;  his  smile 
was  agreeable ;  his  wit  ready, — but  he  was  always  the  first  to  laugh  at 
what  he  said,  which  forced  others  to  laugh  also.  His  conversation  was 
shallow,  his  education  was  bare  ;  and  his  utterance  was  in  a  low  tone 
and  lisping.  There  was  something  uncommon  in  the  connection  of  his 
nose  with  his  upper  lip  ;  he  could  never  talk  without  the  nose,  which 
was  long  and  curved  downwards,  being  also  moved  ridiculously  with 
the  upper  lip." 

Hannah  Newton  is  described  as  short,  dark,  and  "  not 
handsome  "  ;  but  she  was  a  good-natured  young  lady — and 
she  possessed  £30,000.  After  his  marriage  Stoney  lived 
with  her  at  Cold  Pig  Hill,  the  seat  of  her  ancestors.     Greatly 

N.D.  113  I 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

to  his  disappointment,  his  wife  brought  no  children  into  the 
world  alive.  A  correspondent  who  lived  in  the  neighbour- 
hood, and  knew  him  well,  wrote  to  Foot  saying  that  on  one 
occasion  Stoney  caused  the  bell  of  the  parish  church  to  be 
tolled  for  a  child  that  was  still-born,  because,  if  he  could  have 
proved  it  to  have  lived,  he  would  have  acquired  a  life  estate 
in  his  wife's  property.  But  the  mere  tolling  of  the  bell  was 
no  proof,  and  apparently  he  had  no  other.  On  several 
occasions  he  advertised  the  timber  on  his  wife's  estates  for 
sale,  but  the  next  week's  newspaper  always  contained  an 
advertisement  of  forbiddance  on  the  part  of  certain  persons 
who  laid  claim  to  the  estate  as  next  heirs ;  and  he  was 
frustrated  in  that  scheme  also.  In  consequence  of  these 
disappointments,  he  behaved  to  his  wife  like  a  savage.  Once 
at  a  public  assembly,  in  a  violent  fit  of  rage,  he  tumbled  her 
down  a  whole  flight  of  stairs.  At  another  time,  as  it  was 
currently  reported  in  the  neighbourhood,  he  kept  her  locked 
up  in  a  bare  room  for  three  days,  with  no  other  clothing 
than  her  chemise,  and  fed  her  on  nothing  but  one  egg  a  day. 
Fortunately  for  herself,  the  unhappy  lady  did  not  survive  this 
kind  of  treatment  very  long.  After  her  death  Stoney  came 
to  live  in  London,  where  he  seems  to  have  filled  up  his  time 
with  the  usual  routine  of  a  "  man  of  pleasure,"  which  con- 
sisted in  cock-fighting,  horse-racing,  gambling  in  the  clubs  of 
St.  James's,  and  general  dissoluteness. 

It  is  not  probable  that  Lady  Strathmore  knew  anything 
about  Stoney's  private  history,  and  how  he  obtained  an 
introduction  to  her  does  not  appear.  But  having  run  down 
and  captured  already  one  only  daughter  and  sole  heiress, 
he  was  not  the  sort  of  man  to  lose  his  chance  from  want  of 
audacity  in  joining  in  the  pursuit  of  another.  He  was  late 
in  the  field,  for  Gray  had  the  start  of  him  by  about  four 
months  ;  but  the  dull-witted  nabob  was  no  match  for  the 
cunning  half-pay  officer.  Amongst  the  principal  members 
of  the  Countess's  household  in  Grosvenor  Square  were  Miss 
Eliza  Planta,  her  Ladyship's  confidante,  and  the  Rev.  Henry 

114 


MARY  ELEANOR,  COUNTESS   OF   STRATHMORE 

Stephens,  her  domestic  chaplain.  Both  these  persons  were 
won  over  to  Stoney's  interest,  on  the  understanding  appa- 
rently of  payment  by  results.  They  insidiously  influenced 
the  Countess's  mind  in  accordance  with  his  promptings, 
and  kept  him  regularly  supplied  with  information  which 
he  was  able  to  use  for  himself.  For  example,  having  dis- 
covered that  the  Countess  was  of  a  very  superstitious 
turn  of  mind,  he  got  Eliza  Planta  to  arrange  a  visit  to  a 
certain  fortune-teller;  and,  as  he  took  care  to  prime  the 
man  beforehand  very  carefully.  Lady  Strathmore,  greatly  to 
her  astonishment,  was  told,  in  the  first  place,  many  things 
which  she  thought  nobody  outside  her  own  establishment 
could  possibly  know,  and  then  informed  oracularly,  but 
unmistakably,  that  a  certain  contemplated  marriage  was 
fated  never  to  take  place,  and  that  a  better  husband,  whose 
description  tallied  with  that  of  Stoney,  was  in  store  for  her. 
Another  of  his  stratagems  was  to  write  a  letter  to  himself, 
and  get  it  copied  out  in  a  female  handwriting,  purporting  to 
come  from  a  lady  in  Durham,  who,  having  heard  of  his  devo- 
tion at  the  shrine  of  the  Countess  of  Strathmore,  denounced 
vengeance  on  him  for  his  faithlessness  to  herself.  The  copy 
of  this  letter  he  caused  to  be  forwarded  to  the  Countess, 
having  first  sent  it  down  to  Durham  in  order  that  it  might 
arrive  with  the  Durham  post-mark  on  it.  A  day  or  two 
later  this  was  followed  by  another  letter,  in  which  the  supposi- 
titious forsaken  fair  one  expressed  regret  for  having  sent  her 
Ladyship  a  copy  of  her  letter  to  Stoney,  as  she  had  since 
been  greatly  relieved  to  hear  that  her  Ladyship  was  likely  to 
marry  Mr.  Gray ;  and  as  she  had  received  authentic 
information  that  Mr.  Gray's  addresses  had  received  the 
support  and  concurrence  of  the  late  Lord  Strathmore's 
friends  and  relations,  she  had  no  doubt  that  her  Ladyship 
would  soon  marry  him,  and  that  the  infatuated  Stoney  would 
then  return  to  her.  This  was  an  extremely  subtle  stroke 
against  Gray,  for  if  anything  could  have  induced  the  Countess 
to  break  her  engagement  with  him  or  anybody  else  it  would 

115  12 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

have  been  to  find  that  they  were  in  friendly  association  with 
the  relatives  of  her  late  husband.  She  did  not  break  with 
Gray,  however,  who  continued  to  visit  her  as  usual,  and  was 
quite  unconscious  that  the  artful  lieutenant  was  slowly  under- 
mining his  position  and  fortifying  his  own.  At  Christmas, 
1776,  the  Countess  went  on  a  visit  for  a  few  days  to  her 
mother  at  Paul's  Walden,  from  which  place  she  sent  Stoney 
a  letter,  informing  him,  amongst  other  things,  that  her 
chaplain,  Mr.  Stephens,  had  suddenly  and  unexpectedly 
married  her  confidante,  Eliza  Planta.  It  seems  probable 
that,  for  reasons  best  known  to  Eliza  and  himself,  Stoney 
had  been  anxious  to  provide  her  with  a  husband  with  as  little 
delay  as  possible  ;  and  from  his  point  of  view  there  were  two 
great  advantages  in  allying  her  with  Stephens  :  firstly,  it 
would  not  withdraw  her  from  the  Countess's  service ;  and 
secondly,  by  making  his  two  secret  agents  man  and  wife  he 
relieved  himself  of  the  risk  of  their  developing  conflicting 
interests.  How  they  were  rewarded  for  their  services  will  be 
seen  presently.  At  the  moment,  of  course,  it  was  his  cue 
to  express  the  greatest  surprise,  and  he  replied  to  her 
letter  in  the  following  somewhat  obscure  and  rhetorical 
strain  : — 

'*  Woman's  a  riddle.  I  never  felt  the  proverb  more  than  upon  the 
honour  of  receiving  your  Ladyship's  letter.  Eliza  has  indeed  been 
playing  within  the  curtain.  Had  I  been  worthy  to  have  had  confidence 
in  this  business,  I  certainly  should  have  advised  a  double  plot.  Your 
journey  would  have  prevented  any  inquiry  after  the  intention  of  your 
fair  friend,  and  I  then  should  have  had  the  happiness  of  making  my 
consort  not  only  the  conversation  of  the  day,  but  [?  myself]  the  envy  of 
the  world.  You  draw  a  flattering  picture  of  Mr.  Stephens ;  was  he 
anything  but  Eliza's  husband,  I  should  not  be  pleased  with  this  trait ;  but 
she  deserves  to  be  happy;  and  I  hope  he  is  everything  that  she  can  wish. 
I  always  thought  that  Eliza  had  a  good  heart ;  but  she  has  now  con- 
vinced us  that  she  has  a  great  mind,  above  being  trammelled  by  the 
opinions  of  guardians,  relations,  or  pretended  friends.  A  free  choice  is 
happiness  ;  and  bliss  is  the  offspring  of  the  mind.  Those  only  possess 
joy  who  think  they  have  it ;  and  it  signifies  little  whether  we  are  happy 
by  the  forms  our  connections  would  prescribe  to  us  or  not.  I  believe 
it  will  not  be  denied  that  many  are  miserable  under  the  opinion  of  the 

116 


MARY  ELEANOR,  COUNTESS   OF   STRATHMORE 

world  of  their  being  very  much  the  contrary.  You  tell  me  that  your  good 
mother  (Heaven  bless  her!)  is  well  employed  for  an  old  lady;  but  by 
the  soul  of  Angelica'  you  vow  (and  I  know  she  was  dear  to  you)  that 
her  pursuits  do  not  at  this  time  engage  your  attention.  Now  by  the 
living  sick  Jacintha,^  by  everything  I  have  to  hope,  I  swear  that  I  am 
highly  interested  in  your  present  thoughts  ;  and  were  I  Proteus  I  would 
instantly  transform  myself,  to  be  happy  that  I  was  stroked  and  caressed, 
like  them,  by  you ;  and  discovering  the  secret  of  your  mind,  I  might 
experience  what  I  hope  Eliza  will  never  be  a  stranger  to,  to  be  placed 
beyond  the  reach  of  further  hope.  I  am  all  impatient  to  see  your 
Ladyship  ;  I  really  cannot  wait  till  Saturday.  I  must  have  five  minutes' 
chat  with  you  before  that  time.  You  will  think  me  whimsical  ;  but 
upon  Thursday  next,  at  one  o'clock,  I  shall  be  in  the  garden  at  Paul's 
Walden.  There  is  a  leaden  statue,  or  there  was  formerly,  and  near 
that  spot  (for  it  lives  in  my  remembrance)  I  shall  wait ;  and  can  I 
presume  that  you  will  condescend  to  know  the  place  ?  Eliza  shall  be 
our  excuse  for  this  innocent  frolic ;  and  the  civilities  shall  never  be 
erased  from  the  remembrance  of  your  faithful  "  etc.,  etc. 

Stoney  was  evidently  getting  on  apace. 

Meanwhile  the  Morning  Post  continued  to  print  spicy  and 
satirical  paragraphs  about  "  the  Countess  of  Grosvenor 
Square,"  which  at  length  so  exasperated  her  Ladyship  that 
in  a  passionate  outburst  she  declared  that  "  any  man  who 
was  brave  enough  to  call  out  the  editor  of  that  vile  paper 
and  avenge  her  reputation  upon  his  body  should  have  both 
her  hand  and  her  heart."  Mr.  Gray  seems  to  have  taken  no 
notice ;  but  Stoney  saw  that  this  was  his  trump  card.  He 
accordingly  challenged  Parson  Bate,  and  on  January  12th, 
1777,  they  fought  together  in  a  room  at  the  "  Adelphi"  tavern, 
first  with  pistols  and  then  with  swords,  until  the  door  was 
broken  open  and  they  were  separated.  Gray,  who  now  saw 
that  his  rival  had  scored  a  point  over  him,  and  the  late 
Lord  Strathmore's  relatives,  who  were  no  better  pleased  at 
the  prospect  of  a  marriage  with  Stoney  than  with  the  other 
man,  tried  to  discredit  the  champion's  reputation  by  alleging 
that  there  had  been  only  a  sham  duel.  But  four  credible 
witnesses  contradicted  this, — a  Mr.  Hull,  who  was  in  the 
tavern  at  the  time,  and  three  surgeons,  Jesse  Foot,  John 
1  A  deceased  pet  cat.  2  a  living  pet  cat. 

117  I 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

Scott,  M.D.,  and  Sir  Caesar  Hawkins,  who  were  all  called  in 
to  attend  to  the  wounds  of  the  combatants.  The  morning  after 
the  duel  Stoney's  apartments  at  the  St.  James's  Coffee-house 
were  filled  with  visitors  who  came  to  congratulate  him,  but  this 
would  have  proved  scant  consolation  for  the  risk  he  had  run 
had  her  Ladyship  regarded  his  exploit  in  the  matter-of-fact 
way  that  most  other  fine  ladies  of  the  period  would  have 
done.  But  he  knew,  and  calculated  upon,  her  extreme  sensi- 
bility, and  was  probably  not  surprised  at  the  romantic  tone 
of  the  letter  she  sent  him  next  morning,  in  which  she 
declared  that  the  wounds  he  had  received  externally  had 
wounded  her  internally,  with  much  more  to  the  same  effect. 
In  the  course  of  the  morning  she  followed  up  her  letter  by  a 
call,  and  Foot,  who  was  present  in  attendance  on  the 
wounded  swain,  thus  describes  her  appearance : — 

"  The  Countess  at  this  time  was  scarcely  thirty  years  of  age  :  she 
possessed  a  very  pleasing  embonpoint ;  her  breast  was  uncommonly  fine  ; 
her  stature  was  rather  under  the  middle  class ;  her  hair  brown ;  her 
eyes  light,  small,  and  she  was  near-sighted  ;  her  face  was  round  ;  her 
neck  and  shoulders  graceful ;  her  lower  jaw  rather  underhanging,  and 
which,  whenever  she  was  agitated,  moved  very  uncommonly,  as  if  con- 
vulsively, from  side  to  side  ;  her  fingers  were  small,  and  her  hands 
were  exceedingly  delicate.  She  appeared  in  very  fine  health  ;  her 
complexion  was  particularly  clear ;  her  dress  displayed  her  person,  it 
was  elegant  and  loose." 

He  adds  that  she  glowed  with  all  the  warmth  of  a  gay 
widow  about  to  be  married,  and  that  she  was  extraordinarily 
elated  in  consequence  of  having  had  a  duel  fought  on  her 
account.  The  poor  silly  soul,  he  says,  took  home  the  sword 
that  Stoney  had  used,  and  hung  it  up  at  the  head  of  her  bed. 
She  also  celebrated  the  occasion  in  verse,  to  the  following 
effect  : — 

"  Unmov'd  Maria  saw  the  splendid  suite 
Of  rival  captives  sighing  at  her  feet, 
Till  in  her  cause  his  sword  young  Stoney  drew, 
And  to  avenge,  the  gallant  wooer  flew ! 
Bravest  among  the  brave  ! — and  first  to  prove 
By  death !    or   conquest  1   who  best  knew  to  love ! 

ii8 


MARY  ELEANOR,  COUNTESS   OF   STRATHMORE 

But  pale  and  faint  the  wounded  lover  lies, 
While  more  than  pity  fills  Maria's  eyes  ! 
In  her  soft  breast,  where  passion  long  had  strove, 
Resistless  sorrow  fix'd  the  reign  of  love  I 

'  Dear  youth,'  she  cries,  '  we  meet  no  more  to  part ! 

Then  take  thy  honour's  due — my  bleeding  heart  ! '  " 

One  can  imagine  the  "  dear  youth's  "  long  curved  nose 
moving  up  and  down  with  his  Hp  as  he  read  these  pitiful 
lines,  for  to  him  their  meaning  was  not  so  much  that  he 
had  won  the  admiration  of  a  sentimental  young  woman  as 
that  Gibside,  and  Streatlam  Castle,  and  the  coal  mines,  and 
the  Chelsea  hothouses,  and  other  properties  of  hers  were 
now  to  come  into  his  possession.  But  being  well  aware  of  the 
fickleness  as  well  as  sensibility  of  his  charmer's  tempera- 
ment, he  pressed  matters  forward  with  the  utmost  urgency, 
and  before  a  week  had  elapsed  they  were  married  at  St. 
James's  Church.  The  morning  after  his  marriage  he  held 
quite  a  levee  at  the  St.  James's  Coffee-house.  He  was  dressed 
for  the  occasion  in  a  new  suit  of  regimentals ;  two  of  his 
near  relations.  General  Robinson  and  General  Armstrong, 
appeared  likewise  in  full  military  uniform,  as  also  did  some 
of  the  relations  of  the  Countess ;  and  the  cards  that  were 
left  by  the  numerous  visitors,  who  came  on  foot,  on  horse- 
back, and  in  coaches,  made  an  immense  heap.  But,  says 
Foot,  growing  inordinately  rhetorical,  no  bridesmaids  graced 
the  nuptials.  Hymen's  torch  burned  not  clear,  the  perfume 
was  not  sweet-scented,  the  background  was  sombrous,  and 
so  forth,  in  a  long  string  of  incongruous  metaphors  intended 
to  shadow  forth  the  troubles  that  were  to  come.  It  is  a 
highly  significant  fact  that  on  the  morning  after  the  marriage 
the  Rev.  Henry  Stephens,  Eliza's  husband,  received  the  sum 
of  ^1,000,  which  Bowes  generously  paid  him  out  of  the 
Countess's  money. 

Of  course  the  bridegroom  promptly  took  possession  of  his 
wife's  house  in  Grosvenor  Square  and  of  all  her  movables. 
He  then  seems  to  have  bethought  himself  that  there  was  at 
least   one   person   to   whom  he  must  make  some  show  of 

119 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

apology  for  the  indecent  haste  of  his  proceedings.  He 
accordingly  wrote  a  letter  to  Lady  Strathmore's  mother  to 
excuse  himself  for  having  omitted  the  ceremony  of  asking  her 
concurrence,  in  which  he  said : — 

"  I  wish  to  atone  for  that  breach  of  duty,  and  to  ask  your  pardon, 
under  the  promise  of  dedicating  the  remainder  of  my  life  to  the  honour 
and  interest  of  your  daughter  and  her  family.  My  grateful  heart  will 
make  me  her  faithful  companion,  and  with  unremitting  attention  I  will 
consult  her  peace  of  mind  and  the  advantage  of  her  children." 

Like  Lord  Strathmore  before  him,  Stoney  changed  his 
surname  for  that  of  his  wife,  and  we  must  henceforth  speak 
of  him  as  Bowes.  One  of  his  earliest  little  attentions  to  the 
peace  of  mind  of  his  wife  was  to  change  all  her  old  servants 
for  new  ones  of  his  own  choosing  and  to  get  rid  of  the  quasi- 
literary  and  scientific  persons  with  whom  she  had  delighted 
to  surround  herself.  Then,  after  giving  a  few  grand  dinners 
to  exhibit  his  newly  acquired  splendour,  he  sold  the  house  in 
Grosvenor  Square,  and  rented  another  in  what  was  then  the 
secluded  neighbourhood  of  Hammersmith. 

He  had  been  married  but  a  very  short  time  when  he  made 
a  discovery  that  greatly  astonished  him.  He  found  that 
before  her  marriage  with  him,  and  while  she  was  contem- 
plating a  marriage  with  Gray,  she  had,  with  Gray's 
concurrence,  executed  a  deed  to  trustees  whereby  she  vested 
in  them  for  her  sole  use  the  whole  of  her  estates.  This 
would  never  do.  What  he  had  married  her  for  was  simply 
and  solely  in  order  that  he  might  have  the  entire  control  of 
all  her  estates.  As  it  happened,  she,  as  well  as  he,  wanted  to 
raise  a  considerable  sum  of  ready  cash  on  the  property,  for, 
to  say  nothing  of  other  immediate  necessities,  Mr.  Gray 
alleged  a  contract  of  marriage  with  her  Ladyship,  and 
threatened  a  suit  if  he  were  not  pecuniarily  recompensed. 
She  agreed  therefore  to  the  raising  of  a  loan,  and  a  deed 
was  duly  executed  by  the  two  of  them  conjointly  whereby 
the  rents  of  certain  specified  estates  should  be  set  apart  to 
satisfy  the  necessary  annuities.     Out  of  the  money  so  raised 

120 


MARY  ELEANOR,  COUNTESS   OF    STRATHMORE 

Gray  was  compensated  with  the  sum  of  ^^12,000.  But,  of 
course,  this  did  not  satisfy  Bowes,  and  on  May  ist,  1777,  less 
than  four  months  after  his  marriage,  he  induced  her  to 
execute  another  deed  revoking  the  ante-nuptial  settlement, 
and  vesting  the  whole  of  her  estates  in  himself.  What 
methods  of  persuasion  he  adopted  will  appear  later  in  the 
story.  As  soon  as  this  business  was  concluded  they  gave 
up  the  Hammersmith  house,  and  went  off  to  Gibside,  where, 
in  November  of  that  year,  a  daughter  was  born. 

Bowes,  now  become  a  county  magnate,  aspired  to  a  seat 
in  Parliament,  not,  as  may  readily  be  imagined,  from  any 
public-spirited  motive,  but  because  he  thought  it  would 
assist  him  in  obtaining,  what  was  then  the  object  of  his 
ambition,  an  Irish  peerage.  During  his  canvass  he  kept 
open  house  and  gave  good  dinners  at  Gibside,  although,  as 
Foot  notes,  there  was  always  a  spice  of  meanness  about  his 
splendour.  He  failed  at  his  first  attempt,  but  a  year  or  two 
later  succeeded  in  becoming  member  for  Newcastle.  A 
number  of  letters  to  a  friend  in  London,  which  somehow  came 
into  Foot's  possession,  show  how  he  was  occupied  otherwise. 
Little  more  than  a  year  after  his  marriage  we  find  him 
negotiating  to  raise  more  money  by  insurances  on  the  life 
of  his  wife,  and  also  for  the  cutting  down  of  the  extensive 
and  beautiful  woods  on  the  estate  at  Gibside.  In  November, 
1778,  he  writes  : — 

"  If  you  will  be  so  obliging  as  to  have  my  wood  put  into  any  of  the 
papers,  I  am  sure  of  fifty  bidders.  ...  It  has  never  been  offered  to 
sale,  and  I  will  venture  to  say  such  wood  is  not  in  England.  .  ,  .  The 
Dock  Company  in  this  country  has  made  me  a  great  offer  ;  but  I  have 
been  told  the  people  in  London  can  afford  to  give  more.  ...  I 
am  obliged  to  you  for  the  trouble  you  have  taken  about  the  insurance, 
and  beg  you  will  send  me  a  list  of  the  few  best  brokers  in  London.  I 
will   see    myself  and  them   damned  before  I    agree  to  the  price  you 

mention.     D ,  when  I  was  last  in  London,  got  me  ;f  3,000  much  under 

that  charge." 

A  little  later  in  the  same  month  he  writes  from  Cold 
Pig  Hill,  the  old    property  of  his    first   wife,    about  some 

121 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

expenditure  that  appeared  necessary  to  further  his  candidature 
for  a  peerage.    In  December  he  says  that  he  will  not  come  to 
London,  because  he  can  live  at  half  the  expense  at  Gibside, 
and  must  first  get  some  money  in  hand.     In  the  following 
May  he  reports  that  although  he  has  sold  the  Chelsea  house, 
with  all  its  conservatories,  etc.,  he  is  still  in  want  of  ready 
money.     In  June  he  wants  a  bill  held  over  for  a  short  time, 
although  it  appears  that  he  has  recently  been  able  to  buy  a 
racehorse,  which  has  been  doing  well.     In  February,  1780, 
he  declares  that  he  will  break  with  his  present  bankers  as 
soon  as  it  is  safe  for   him  to   show  his  teeth,   but  at  the 
moment  he  is  being  incessantly  harassed  by  the  mortgagees 
of  his  estates.     He  implores  his  friend  to  buy  from  him  one 
estate,  near  Barnard   Castle,  which   is  entirely  in  his  own 
disposal,  has  no  encumbrance  on  it  but  a  sum  of  £2,000,  the 
interest  of  which  has  been  duly  paid,  and  is  worth  about 
5^400  a  year.     At  the  same  time  he  gives  this  friend  the  tip 
to  bet  on  his  horse  "  Icelander,"  and  he  adds  that  it  will 
be  equally  safe  to  bet  on  its  owner  becoming  member  for 
Newcastle.     As  it  happened,  the  tip  was  a  good  one,  for  his 
horse  won  the  race,  and  he  won  his  election.     In  August, 
1781,  he  writes  that  although  Lady  Strathmore  is  in  perfect 
health,  yet,  as  she  is  with  child,  he  is  determined  to  insure 
her  life  deeply,  and  would  like  £18,000  worth  of  policies  with 
good  names  to  them.     Altogether  he  seems  to  have  insured 
her  for  about  £30,000.     And  so  the   letters  go  on,  always 
showing  him  to  be  in  difficulties  and  adopting  all  sorts  of 
expedients  for  raising  ready  money.    Notwithstanding  that  he 
was  member  for  Newcastle,  he  was  scarcely  ever  in  London, 
making  not  even  a  pretence  of  attending  to  his  parliamentary 
duties,  and  as  soon  as  he  found  that  the  Government  did  not 
favour  his  pretensions  to  a  peerage  he  devoted  himself  exclu- 
sively to  other  pursuits. 

One  day  in  the  autumn  of  1783  Foot  met  him  in  Cockspur 
Street  and  accompanied  him  to  a  jeweller's,  where  he  bought 
a  number  of  trinkets  to  the  value  of  £40.     Shortly  after  this 

122 


MARY  ELEANOR,  COUNTESS   OF   STRATHMORE 

the  surgeon  went  down  to  Paul's  Walden  to  inoculate  the 
Countess's  latest  baby.  He  found  many  people  at  dinner 
there,  and  amongst  them  a  most  beautiful  young  woman,  a 
daughter  of  one  of  the  farmers  on  the  estate,  who,  he  noticed, 
was  wearing  the  trinkets  that  Bowes  had  bought  a  few  days 
previously  in  Cockspur  Street,  Her  mother  and  sisters  came 
after  dinner,  and  they  all  drank  tea  with  the  Countess.  He 
had  not  seen  Lady  Strathmore  for  some  time,  and  found  her 
so  strangely  altered  that  he  would  have  liked  some  private 
conversation  with  her,  but  no  opportunity  was  afforded  him. 

"She  was  pale  and  nervous,  and  her  under-jaw  constantly  moved 
from  side  to  side.  If  she  said  anything,  she  looked  at  him  first.  If  she 
was  asked  to  drink  a  glass  of  wine,  she  took  his  intelligence  before  she 
answered.  She  sat  but  a  short  time  at  dinner,  and  was  then  out  of  my 
sight." 

Bowes  now  rented  another  house,  furnished,  in  Grosvenor 
Square,  where  he  gave  a  few  parliamentary  dinners,  "  to  some 
of  the  members  of  his  acquaintance,  for  I  will  not  call  them 
friends,"  says  Foot  significantly.  But  he  saw  both  that  he 
had  no  chance  of  being  returned  again  for  Newcastle,  and 
that  the  peerage  game  was  up,  wherefore,  abandoning 
politics  and  ambition,  he  devoted  his  restless  energies  to 
worrying  and  harassing  the  relatives  and  guardians  of  his 
wife's  children,  partly  perhaps  as  a  vent  for  his  evil  temper, 
but  partly  also,  without  a  doubt,  to  make  money  by  getting 
the  girls  into  his  possession  and  disposing  of  them  in 
matrimony. 

The  late  Lord  Strathmore's  two  daughters  were  wards  in 
Chancery ;  and  their  guardians,  who  disapproved  not  only  of 
Lady  Strathmore's  marriage,  but  of  her  conduct  generally, 
wished  to  keep  the  children  away  from  her  influence  as  much 
as  possible.  They  were  allowed  to  visit  her  occasionally,  but 
only  on  condition  of  returning  home  the  same  evening ;  and 
for  several  years  she  seems  to  have  troubled  very  little  about 
them.  In  1784  Lady  Maria  Jane,  the  elder  daughter,  was 
about  sixteen  years  of  age,  and  having  left  school,  was  living 

123 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

with  her  aunt,  Lady  A.  S ,  in  Harley  Street.     The  younger 

daughter,  Lady  Anna  Maria,  was  in  a  school  not  far  off.  On 
May  2 1st  in  that  year  the  Countess  addressed  a  letter, 
unmistakably  dictated  by  Bowes,  to  the  mistress  of  this 
school  saying  she  was  just  about  to  make  a  visit  to  Bath 
and  would  send  for  Lady  Anna  Maria  next  morning,  as  she 
would  like  her  daughter  to  spend  a  day  with  her  before  her 
departure.  Next  morning  accordingly  Lady  Anna  Maria 
was  allowed  to  leave  the  school  for  Grosvenor  Square  in 
company  with  a  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Reynett,  who  had  been  sent 
to  fetch  her.  Mr.  Reynett  was  a  clergyman,  who  had  replaced 
the  Rev.  Henry  Stephens  as  domestic  chaplain,  and  now 
lived,  together  with  his  wife,  in  Bowes's  house.  But  when 
night  came,  instead  of  bringing  the  child  back  to  school,  this 
worthy  couple  brought  a  letter  to  the  schoolmistress  and  the 
information  that  Lady  Strathmore  and  her  daughter  had  left 
Grosvenor  Square  in  a  hackney  coach,  for  what  destination 
they  could  not  tell.  The  letter,  which  was  signed  by  the 
Countess  and  in  her  handwriting,  set  forth  that,  in  accordance 
with  Lady  Anna  Maria's  affectionate  and  dutiful  request  that 
she  might  spend  her  holidays  with  her  mother,  Lady  Strath- 
more had  taken  her  into  her  own  possession.  She  would  not 
have  done  this,  she  added,  before  the  end  of  the  school 
term  had  she  not  feared  that  she  would  then  be  prevented, 
as  she  had  been  before,  by  the  young  lady's  guardians,  who 
had  caused  her  much  suffering  by  depriving  her  of  the 
company  of  her  children. 

On  the  same  day  the  Countess  addressed  another  letter 

(also,  of  course,  at  Bowes's  dictation)  to  Lady  A.   S , 

requesting  that  Lady  Maria  Jane  might  come  the  following 
day  to  see  her  before  she  set  out  for  Bath  ;  and  next 
morning  Lady  Maria  Jane  was  duly  sent,  accompanied  by 

Mrs.   O ,  a   sister   of  Lady   A.    S 's   late    husband. 

They  were  shown  into  the  drawing-room  and  received  by 
Mrs.  Reynett.  As  they  came  up  to  the  house  the  young  lady 
declared  that  she  saw  her  sister's  face  at  one  of  the  windows. 

124 


MARY  ELEANOR,  COUNTESS  OF  STRATHMORE 

Consequently,    when    the    Countess   appeared,   Mrs.    O 


inquired  whether  Lady  Anna  Maria  had  come  on  a  visit 
also,  and  was  answered  in  the  affirmative.  After  a  short 
chat  the  mother  took  her  daughter  into  another  room, 
ostensibly    to    show    her    something    of    interest,    leaving 

Mrs.  O behind  in  the  drawing-room  with  Mrs.  Reynett 

and  with  a  gentleman  whose  name  does  not  appear,  but 
who  evidently  was  that  friend  to  whom  Bowes  had  addressed 
the  letters  about  his  money  matters  which  have  already  been 
quoted  from.     When  some  considerable  time  had  elapsed, 

Mrs.  O rang  the  bell  and  desired  a  servant  to  acquaint 

his  mistress  that  it  was  time  for  Lady  Maria  Jane  and 
herself  to  go.  He  brought  back  word  that  the  young  lady 
would  come  immediately.  After  waiting  a  while,  she  rang 
again,  sent  the  same  message,  and  received  the  same 
answer.  Then,  after  another  interval,  she  desired  Mrs. 
Reynett  to  go  and  fetch  Lady  Maria  Jane  to  her  immediately. 
Mrs.  Reynett  went  out  for  the  purpose,  but  presently  came 

back  saying  she  dare  not  go  into  the  room.     Mrs.  O 

thereupon  said  she  would  go  herself,  and  being  directed  to 
the  Countess's  dressing-room,  found  the  door  locked.  She 
consequently  returned  to  the  drawing-room  in  great  agitation, 
which  was  nowise  lessened  when  a  servant  entered  and 
delivered  to  her  the  following  letter  : — 

"  Madam, — As  you  have  accompanied  Lady  Maria  upon  the  present 
as  well  as  a  former  occasion,  on  both  of  which  I  strenuously  requested 
to  see  my  daughter  by  herself,  I  conclude  that  you  have  some  written 
order  from  a  majority  of  her  guardians.  If  thus  authorised,  I  shall  not 
choose  to  interfere  in  regard  to  her  returning  with  you  to-day ;  but  if 
you  cannot  produce  any  such  sanction,  you  will,  I  hope,  excuse  my 
detaining  her  till,  by  representing  my  case  and  laying  my  grievances 
before  my  Lord  Chancellor,  I  shall  be  honoured  with  his  Lordship's 
commands. 

"  However  inhuman  may  be  the  behaviour  I  have  experienced  from 
those  who  never  paid  the  slightest  attention  to  my  feelings  as  a  mother, 
and  whose  professed  regard  for  my  children  ought  to  have  taught  them 
a  very  different  lesson,  yet  I  hope  you  will  be  so  obliging  as  believe  that 
nothing  can  be  further  from  my  wishes  than  to  treat  you  with  the  most 

125 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

distant  degree  of  impoliteness,  especially  in  my  own  house ;  but  that 
goodness  of  heart  which  I  have  the  pleasure  to  know  you  possess  will, 
I  doubt  not,  fully  excuse  the  liberty  I  novv  take,  and  lead  you  to 
sympathise  in  the  sufferings  of  a  parent  whose  children  have  for  many 
years  been  entirely  excluded  from  her  sight,  an  affliction  which,  though 
you  have  never  been  so  unfortunate  as  to  experience,  yet  you  may  easily 
conceive  the  severity  of  ;  and  from  your  own  sensations  upon  former 
occasions  will  form  a  just  idea  how  impossible  it  must  be  even  to  exist 
under  such  cruel  and  unnatural  control. 
"  I  am,  Madam, 

"  Your  most  obedient  and  humble  Servant, 

"  M.  E.  Bowes  Strathmoke." 

As  soon  as  Mrs.  O had  read  this  letter  she  called  for 

her  own  servant,  who  attended  her  carriage  at  the  door,  and 
directed  him  to  carry  it  to  his  master  and  bid  him  come 
to  her  in  Grosvenor  Square  immediately.  She  then  told 
Mrs.  Reynett  that  she  meant  to  stay  there  until  her  young 
charge  was  given  up  to  her.  Mrs.  Reynett  pretended  to 
go  in  search  of  the  young  lady,  but  presently  returned 
saying  she  could  not  find  either  her  or  Lady  Strathmore. 
Mrs.  O then  went  again  to  the  Countess's  dressing- 
room,  the  door  of  which  proved  this  time  to  be  unlocked ; 
but  on  her  endeavouring  to  enter,  it  was  shut  and  locked 
against  her  by  some  person  on  the  inside.  At  the  same 
moment  she  heard  Lady  Maria  scream,  whereupon  she  called 
out,  "  Maria,  I  will  not  quit  this  house  until  you  come  to 
me."  Then,  asking  Mrs.  Reynett  for  a  chair,  she  planted  it 
against  the  door,  sat  down,  and  declared  that  there  she 
would  remain.  Her  courage  and  determination  were  re-' 
warded,  for  the  gentleman  who  had  been  sitting  with  her  and 
Mrs.  Reynett  in  the  drawing-room  interfered  in  her  behalf, 
and  presently  appeared  leading  the  young  lady  by  the  hand. 
After  thanking  him  warmly,  they  hastened  out  of  the  house. 
Lady  Maria  afterwards  informed  her  friends  that  all  the 
while  she  was  detained  both  her  mother  and  Mr.  Bowes  had 
been  exhorting  her  by  every  inducement  they  could  think  of 
to  withdraw  herself  from  her  guardians  and  reside  with 
them.     On  the  26th  of  the  month  application  was  made  by 

126 


MARY  ELEANOR,  COUNTESS   OF   STRATHMORE 

her  guardians  to  the  Lord  Chancellor  to  have  the  person  of 
Lady  Anna  Maria  delivered  over  to  them ;  but  they  were 
too  late.  On  the  evening  of  the  22nd  Bowes,  who  had 
made  all  necessary  preparations  in  advance,  had  set  out 
with  the  Countess  and  her  daughter,  not  for  Bath,  but  for 
Paris. 

He  was  always  a  good  hand  at  Pecksniffian  letter-writing ; 
and  the  friend  who,  as  we  have  seen,  took  a  great  deal  of 
trouble  to  help  him  in  his  financial  negotiations,  was  now 
induced  to  help  him  in  the  suit  which  was  brought  against 
him  in  the  Court  of  Chancery.  But  in  a  letter  which  he 
wrote  to  this  friend  after  he  had  been  about  three  weeks  in 
hiding  'on  the  Continent  he  came  perilously  near  to  giving 
himself  away. 

"  If  I  had  wanted  to  petition  the  Chancellor  "  [he  says]  "  on  the  late 
conduct  of  the  guardians,  I  am  perfectly  well  satisfied  that  the  same 
diabolical  and  unfair  artifices  would  have  been  successfully  practised 
upon  Lady  Anna  Maria  that  have  deprived  Lady  Strathmore  for  ever, 
I  believe,  of  the  company  of  her  eldest  daughter.  Besides,  his  Lordship 
has  been  applied  to  upon  two  former  occasions  without  giving  any 
redress;  though  no  circumstances  could  be  stronger  than  those  brought 

against  Mr.   L .     The  other  guardian  I  consider  merely  as  a  tool, 

and  Mr.  O the  commander-in-chief,     I  am  now  extremely  sorry 

that  I  did  not  turn  Mrs.  O out  of  the  house,  and  retain  Lady 

Maria.     .     .     . 

"  I  am  sure  your  kindness  upon  examination  will  do  Lady  Strathmore 
essential  service  ;  but  Reynett  is  a  blundering  poor  fellow,  that  would 
do  all  in  his  power  to  serve  us,  but  has  no  head.  However,  there  is  one 
good  thing,  which  is  that  he  has  been  always  kept  in  the  dark  in  every 
essential  that  concerned  Lady  Strathmore's  children,  and  his  wife 
equally  so.  It  will  therefore  be  prudent,  lest  they  should  be  examined, 
for  you  to  be  as  little  communicative  to  them  as  possible  ;  for  if  they  say 
anything,  they  will  likely  say  too  much.  All  the  service  they  can  do  us 
will  be  merely  to  prove  Lady  Strathmore's  state  of  health  and  mind." 

In  a  subsequent  letter  he  said  that,  whatever  the  Chan- 
cellor might  determine,  he  was  "  resolved  to  permit  Lady 
Strathmore  and  her  daughter  to  do  exactly  as  their  own 
wishes  may  happen  to  dictate,"  and  expressed  his  belief  that 
they   wished   to   remain    in    "  their   present    asylum."      He 

127 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

seems  to  have  persuaded  Lady  Strathmore's  medical  man, 
John  Hunter,  as  well  as  many  other  people,  that  her  Lady- 
ship's evident  disorder,  both  of  body  and  of  mind,  was  entirely 
due  to  the  suffering  she  underwent  by  being  separated  from  her 
children.  His  counsel,  John  Scott  (afterwards  Lord 
Chancellor  Eldon),  argued  to  the  same  effect,  with  tears  in 
his  eyes,  in  court.  And  when  the  Lord  Chancellor,  unmoved 
by  this  pathetic  appeal,  ordered  the  young  lady  to  be  brought 
to  England  and  delivered  over  to  her  guardians  forthwith, 
Bowes  seems  to  have  so  hypnotised  his  poor  wife  that  when 
the  friend  already  referred  to  came  over  to  France  to  fetch 
the  child  back  by  order  of  the  Chancellor  she  fainted  when 
she  saw  him  and  complained  of  the  barbarity  of  the 
proceeding.  And  yet  all  the  while,  as  the  whole  town 
learned  in  rather  dramatic  fashion  three  months  later,  her 
disorder  of  body  and  mind  was  due  to  another  cause 
altogether,  and  it  was  the  dearest  wish  of  her  heart  to  be 
brought  safely  back  to  England. 

Writing  to  the  Countess  of  Upper  Ossory  on  February  5th, 
1785,  Horace  Walpole  says  in  his  characteristic  style: — 

"  The  news  of  my  coffee-house,  since  I  began  my  letter,  is  that  Lady 
Strathmore  eloped  last  night,  taking  her  two  maids  with  her  ;  but  no 
swain  is  talked  of.  The  town  they  say  is  empty ;  it  certainly  does  not 
produce  its  usual  complement  of  extravagances  when  one  solitary 
elopement  of  a  veteran  madwoman  is  all  that  is  at  market." 

Two  days  later  the  empty  town  learned  something  more 
of  the  matter,  for  on  the  7th  Lady  Strathmore  exhibited 
articles  of  the  peace  against  her  husband  in  the  Court  of  King's 
Bench  for  ill-treatment  of  her  person,  and  immediately 
afterwards  entered  an  action  against  him  in  the  Ecclesias- 
tical Court  for  a  divorce.  How  long  she  had  had  any  such 
step  in  contemplation  does  not  appear ;  but  on  February  4th, 
when  Bowes  was  out  to  dinner,  the  men-servants  were  got 
out  of  the  way  on  some  pretence  or  other ;  the  doors  of  some 
of  the  rooms  were  locked,  so  that  it  might  not  be  found  out 
immediately  that  she  had  fled  ;    and  then,  accompanied  by 

128 


MARY   ELEANOR,  COUNTESS   OF   STRATHMORE 

her  faithful  maid,  Mary  Morgan,  she  stole  out  into  Oxford 
Street,  got  into  a  hackney  coach,  and  was  driven  off  to  the 
house  of  Mr.  Shuter,  a  lawyer,  in  Cursitor  Street,  who  at 
once  took  her  case  in  hand,  and  found  apartments  for  her, 
under  the  protection  of  the  Court,  in  Dyer's  Buildings. 
When  she  escaped  she  had  not  a  shilling  at  her  command, 
and  she  took  with  her  nothing  but  the  clothes  she  was 
wearing.  Her  family  jewels  were  soon  afterwards  handed 
over  by  Bowes  to  the  useful  and  obliging  friend  already 
mentioned,  with  the  idea  probably  of  raising  money  on 
them ;  but  the  honest  man  deposited  them  in  Child's  Bank 
in  her  Ladyship's  name,  and  they  were  consequently  pre- 
served for  the  Strathmore  family.  Bowes  was  bound  over 
in  substantial  bail  for  a  year  ;  and  being  thus  precluded  from 
such  interference  with  his  wife  as  he  would  otherwise  have 
attempted,  had  to  content  himself  with  taking  a  lodging  in 
the  same  street  to  keep  a  watch  over  her  movements. 

When  the  case  came  on  in  the  Consistorial  Court,  not 
only  was  Bowes  convicted  of  several  adulteries,  but  the 
evidence  of  his  barbarous  cruelty  also  was  overwhelming.  It 
was  shown  that  he  had  refused  her  proper  clothing,  left  her 
without  money  to  buy  any  little  necessaries  she  might 
require,  and  refused  to  pay  the  bills  of  tradesmen  who 
supplied  goods  to  her  without  his  order.  She  had  often  been 
without  a  shift  or  a  pair  of  stockings  fit  to  put  on,  had  been 
seen  going  about  in  shabby  and  even  ragged  garments,  and 
had  sometimes  been  obliged  to  borrow  articles  of  clothing 
from  her  own  maid.  He  had  often  cursed  her,  pinched  her, 
and  kicked  her.  One  day,  merely  because  she  had  been  in 
the  garden  at  Paul's  Walden  without  his  leave,  he  had 
thrown  a  dish  of  hot  potatoes  in  her  face,  then  forced  her  to 
eat  the  potatoes,  and  afterwards  thrown  a  glass  of  wine  in 
her  face,  "  to  wash  the  dirt  off."  On  another  occasion  he 
had  held  a  knife  to  her  throat,  and  threatened  to  cut  it  if  she 
spoke  another  word.  Mary  Morgan,  her  maid,  deposed  that 
during  the  time  they  were  in  France  with  Lady  Anna  Maria, 

N.D.  129  K 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

instead  of  letting  his  wife  and  her  daughter  do  exactly  as  they 
wished  (which,  it  will  be  remembered,  is  what  he  had  pro- 
tested to  his  friend  at  the  time),  his  conduct  to  the  Countess 
had   been    "  one    continued    scene    of    abuse,    insult,    and 
cruelty,"  and  that,   after  their  return  to  England,  he  had 
burnt  her  face  with  a  candle,  thrust  the  quill  of  a  pen  into 
her  tongue,  thrown  the  fire-tongs  at  her,  and  beaten  her  with 
a  stick.      The  Rev.  Samuel  Markham,   chaplain  to  Bowes 
from    May,  1778,  to    February,  1779   (this   fine   gentleman 
seems  to  have  changed  his  chaplains  as  often  as  a  modern 
fine  lady  changes  her  maids),   deposed  that   the    Countess 
behaved   to  her   husband   in    a   very    dutiful   and   obedient 
manner,  nay,  as  he  thought,  rather  servilely  than  otherwise, 
but  that  Bowes  was  of  a  very  savage  disposition  and  put  him- 
self into  a  furious  passion  on  the  most  trivial  occasions.    Not 
only  was  he  violent  to  the  Countess,  but  the  poor  parson  had 
had  to  give  up  his  appointment  on  account  of  violence  to 
himself.      On  February  25th,  he  deposed,  Mr.  Bowes,  think- 
ing his  chaplain  had  stayed  too  long  in  the  parlour  after 
dinner,  not  only  abused  him  by  calling  him  a  villain  and  a 
rascal,  but  also  struck  him  several  hard  blows  on  the  face, 
head,  side,  and  other  parts  of  his  body,  and  finished  up  by 
knocking  him  down.     There  was  no  defence  worth  consider- 
ing, and,  of  course,  the  Countess  obtained  judgment  in  her 
favour.     Bowes  had  tried  all  he  knew  to  delay  the  proceed- 
ings ;  and  now,  in  order  to  cause  further  delay,  he  appealed 
to  the  Arches  Court  of  Canterbury.    Before  the  appeal  came 
on  his  bail  expired,  and  his  securities  were  discharged.    Then 
he  determined  that  he  would  take  possession  of  Lady  Strath- 
more  by  force  and  get  her  to  sign  a  paper  promising  to  drop 
all  opposition  to  his  appeal  and  to  live  with  him  again  as 
his  wife ;   this,  of  course,  merely  that  he  might  still  retain 
full  control  of  her  fortune.     All  his  plans  at  this  time  were 
laid  over    the    bottle,  for   he   sat    up    drinking   hard   every 
night ;  and  the  result  of  his  drunken  inspiration  must  now 
be  told. 

130 


MARY  ELEANOR,  COUNTESS   OF   STRATHMORE 

After  the  trial  Lady  Strathmore,  considering  herself  quite 
secure,  had  removed  from  Dyer's  Buildings  to  a  house  in 
Bloomsbury  Square  ;  but  before  long  she  and  her  servants 
became  alarmed  by  noticing  several  suspicious-looking 
persons  lurking  about  the  place,  and  they  knew  Bowes  well 
enough  to  suspect  that  he  was  probably  contemplating  some 
nefarious  design  to  her  disadvantage.  It  turned  out  after- 
wards that,  in  addition  to  several  of  his  own  servants,  a 
constable  whom  he  had  corrupted,  and  an  unscrupulous 
attorney,  Bowes  had  conspired  with  a  "  gentleman  "  named 
Peacock,  a  colliery  agent,  to  capture  Lady  Strathmore  and 
carry  her  off  to  one  of  his  places  in  the  north.  When  they 
were  all  subsequently  tried  for  conspiracy,  it  was  proved  that 
Bowes,  who  assumed  the  name  of  Colonel  Medison,  and 
Peacock,  who  passed  by  the  name  of  Johnson,  took  lodgings 
together  in  Norfolk  Street,  Strand,  and  that  they  were 
always  going  about  town  disguised  and  armed  with  pistols. 
Sometimes,  in  military  dress,  Bowes  was  Colonel  Medison ; 
sometimes,  differently  attired,  he  was  a  justice  of  the  peace  ; 
sometimes,  made  up  with  a  large  wig  and  a  pair  of  spectacles, 
he  was  a  tottering  old  man  ;  and  sometimes  he  assumed  the 
dress  and  appearance  of  a  sailor.  Occasionally  Bowes  and 
Peacock  would  sit  and  wait  in  a  coach  with  the  blinds  up  in 
Bloomsbury  Square.  At  other  times  he  and  Peacock  in  one 
coach,  with  his  posse  of  servants,  all  armed,  in  another, 
drove  about  to  Hyde  Park  Corner,  or  to  Chelsea,  or  to  any 
other  neighbourhood  where  they  imagined  they  might  meet 
with  Lady  Strathmore.  But  her  Ladyship  had  evidently 
become  too  suspicious ;  and,  in  order  to  put  her  off  her  guard, 
Bowes,  leaving  his  subordinates  behind  in  London,  rushed 
off  to  Durham.  Arrived  there,  he  got  up  a  little  dramatic 
scene,  with  the  assistance  of  a  servant  and  an  accommodating 
surgeon,  who,  of  course,  were  given  some  other  explanation 
to  account  for  the  little  play  in  which  they  consented  to  take 
part.  Being  out  for  a  ride,  he  got  off  his  horse  at  a  quiet 
and  convenient  spot,  and  lay  down  in  the  road  as  though  he 

131  K  2 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

had  fallen.  His  servant  immediately  galloped  off  to  the 
nearest  house,  and,  assuming  great  agitation,  explained  that 
his  master  had  had  a  nasty  accident,  had  dislocated  his 
shoulder  and  broken  his  leg,  and  three  of  his  ribs  perhaps 
also,  as  well  as  fractured  his  skull.  Apparently  by  the 
merest  coincidence,  the  accommodating  surgeon  happened  to 
come  riding  by  in  the  very  nick  of  time,  and,  after  bleeding 
the  sufferer,  ordered  him  to  be  very  carefully  removed  to 
Streatlam  Castle  and  kept  quite  quiet,  for  he  was  too 
dangerously  ill  to  see  anybody.  Of  course  he  took  care  that 
the  news  was  not  only  circulated  all  over  the  county,  but 
also  carried  up  to  London.  Then  slipping  out  unobserved, 
and  effectually  disguised,  he  posted  off  at  full  speed  to  rejoin 
his  fellow-conspirators  in  Norfolk  Street,  Strand,  and  was 
actively  prosecuting  his  nefarious  scheme  in  person  when 
everybody  supposed  him  to  be  laid  up  in  bed  at  Streatlam 
Castle.  But  he  seemed  to  make  no  progress  towards  the 
accomplishment  of  his  purpose  until  he  conceived  the 
brilliant  idea  of  corrupting  a  constable  named  Lucas  and 
getting  him  to  insinuate  himself  into  the  confidence  of  the 
Countess.  He  got  at  the  man  through  his  wife.  They  were 
poor,  and  he  was  liberal  of  his  money.  He  posed  as  an 
injured  and  outraged  husband,  and  managed  to  secure  the 
wife's  sympathy.  She  said  he  was  a  most  charming  man, 
and  it  was  a  great  shame  he  should  be  so  badly  used.  Why, 
when  one  of  her  children  was  ill  he  called  to  see  it  every  day, 
and  gave  it  the  medicine  with  his  own  hands.  He  was  as 
mild  and  meek  as  a  lamb,  as  generous  as  a  prince,  and  so 
forth.  Then  he  promised  to  let  Lucas  have  some  houses, 
belonging  to  Lady  Strathmore,  at  a  peppercorn  rent,  and  to 
get  him  a  comfortable  place  in  the  Customs.  By  these 
means  he  induced  the  man  to  go  to  Lady  Strathmore  and, 
in  his  capacity  of  constable,  warn  her  of  the  danger  she  was 
in  from  certain  evilly-disposed  persons  who  were  lurking 
about.  The  bait  took ;  her  Ladyship  was  very  grateful ; 
and  when  Lucas  offered  his  services  to  protect  her  whenever 

132 


MARY   ELEANOR,  COUNTESS   OF   STRATHMORE 

she  went  abroad,  he  was  promptly  engaged  for  the  purpose. 
Bowes  then  instructed  another  of  his  accomphces  to  go 
before  a  justice  of  the  peace  and  swear  that  he  went  in 
danger  of  his  hfe  from  a  servant  of  Lady  Strathmore's, 
named  Mary  Morgan,  from  her  footman,  named  Robert 
Crundel,  and  from  her  coachman,  whose  name  was  Lee, 
but  who,  as  Bowes  did  not  happen  to  know  this,  was 
described  as  one  Jones.  A  warrant  being  granted  for  the 
arrest  of  these  three  persons,  was,  of  course,  handed  over  to 
Lucas,  who  employed  three  men  to  effect  the  arrests  when- 
ever instructed  to  do  so. 

On  November  loth,  1786,  Lucas  went  to  Lady  Strathmore's 
house  to  know  if  she  were  going  out  that  day  and  required 
him  to  protect  her.  She  told  him  she  need  not  trouble  him 
at  that  time,  as  Captain  Farrer  would  accompany  her  and 
would  be  sufficient  protection.  This  was  all  he  wanted  to 
know,  and  his  plans  were  laid  accordingly.  When  she  left 
the  house,  accompanied  by  Captain  Farrer  and  her  maid, 
Mary  Morgan,  he  and  his  myrmidons  followed  her  carriage 
until  it  stopped  at  the  shop  of  an  ironmonger  named  Foster, 
in  Oxford  Street.  As  soon  as  the  occupants  of  the  carriage 
had  entered  the  shop  her  coachman  and  footman  were 
instantly  arrested  and  hurried  off  to  the  magistrate  who  had 
issued  the  warrant.  No  one  appeared  against  them,  and  they 
were  at  once  discharged,  but  all  that  was  wanted  was  to  get 
them  out  of  the  way  for  a  short  time.  Seeing  the  commo- 
tion and  scenting  danger.  Lady  Strathmore  and  Mary 
Morgan  ran  upstairs  into  a  private  room  and  locked  them- 
selves in.  After  a  few  moments  there  was  a  knock  at  the 
door,  and  they  heard  the  voice  of  Lucas,  who  said  he  had 
come  to  protect  her  Ladyship  ;  but  as  soon  as  he  had  obtained 
admittance  he  declared  that  he  held  a  warrant  for  her  Lady- 
ship's arrest,  which  he  was  bound  to  execute  at  his  peril. 
At  the  same  time  he  endeavoured  to  reassure  her  by  saying 
that  his  instructions  were  to  take  her  before  Lord  Mansfield, 
who  would  assuredly  afford  her  protection  against  her  enemies. 

133 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

He  advised  Mary  Morgan  to  go  away  quietly,  as  there  was 
a  warrant  out  against  her  also ;  and  calling  upon  Captain 
Farrer  to  aid  and  assist  him  in  the  King's  name,  requested 
Lady  Strathmore  to  re-enter  her  carriage.  Rather  bewildered 
by  all  this.  Lady  Strathmore  asked  if  Captain  Farrer  might 
accompany  her  to  Lord  Mansfield's,  and,  this  being  agreed 
to,  she  re-entered  her  carriage,  a  strange  coachman  and  foot- 
man mounted  the  box,  and,  followed  by  the  rest  of  the 
confederates,  they  drove  off  at  a  rapid  pace,  Farrer  does 
not  seem  to  have  realised  that  they  were  not  travelling  in  the 
direction  of  Lord  Mansfield's  until,  when  they  reached 
Highgate  Hill,  Mr.  Bowes  put  in  an  appearance,  requested 
him  to  alight,  got  in  and  seated  himself  beside  Lady  Strath- 
more, and  shouted  to  the  strange  coachman  to  drive  on  with 
all  speed.  Then,  of  course,  the  rather  stupid  Captain 
hastened  back  to  London  and  gave  the  alarm. 

An  application  was  made  in  the  King's  Bench  as  soon  as 
possible,  and  on  the  13th  two  of  Lord  Mansfield's  tipstaffs 
set  off  for  the  north  to  effect  a  rescue.  But  Bowes  had  three 
days'  start  of  them,  and  he  had  probably  counted  on  the  almost 
hypnotic  influence  which  he  had  previously  exercised  over 
his  wife  to  enable  him  to  accomplish  his  purpose  before  he 
could  be  overtaken.  She  screamed  "Murder!"  struggled, 
and  broke  the  carriage  windows,  but  without  avail.  They 
attracted  much  curious  notice  at  several  places  on  the  road ; 
but  nobody  felt  called  upon  to  interfere,  as  Bowes  declared 
she  was  a  poor  unhappy  madwoman,  whom  it  was  unfortu- 
nately necessary  to  place  under  restraint.  At  Barnet  they  got 
into  a  four-horse  post-chaise  which  there  awaited  them,  and 
continued  their  journey  with  increased  speed.  About  noon 
next  day  one  of  Bowes's  servants  rode  up  to  the  "Angel  "  inn 
at  Doncaster,  and  ordered  horses  to  be  got  ready  instantly 
for  his  master's  carriage.  Half  an  hour  later  the  carriage 
drove  up,  and  while  the  horses  were  changing  the  landlord 
handed  some  cakes  to  Bowes,  who  said  the  lady  wanted  them. 
Then,  as  soon  as  the  horses  were  put  to,  they  flew  on  their 

i  134 


MARY  ELEANOR,  COUNTESS   OF   STRATHMORE 

way  northward.  At  Branby  Moor  the  lady  was  shown  into 
a  room  for  a  short  time,  attended  by  a  chambermaid,  while 
Bowes  stood  sentry  at  the  door.  A  similar  halt  was  allowed 
her  at  Ferry  Bridge,  and  at  each  place  Bowes  and  his 
villainous-looking  attendants  gave  out  that  she  was  an  unfor- 
tunate mad  lady.  She  related  afterwards  that  as  they  drove 
along  Bowes  endeavoured  to  persuade  her  to  sign  a  paper, 
which  he  had  with  him,  in  which  she  was  made  to  promise 
to  stop  all  proceedings  in  the  Ecclesiastical  Court  and  consent 
to  live  with  him  as  his  wife.  When  she  refused,  he  struck 
her  with  his  clenched  fists,  and  presenting  a  loaded  pistol  at 
her  he&d,  threatened  to  take  her  life.  When  they  arrived  at 
Streatlam  Castle,  however,  at  midnight  on  November  nth, 
she  still  remained  firm  in  her  refusal  to  sign.  When  he  had 
got  her  :nto  the  castle  and  barricaded  the  entrance  to  prevent 
a  rescue,  he  renewed  his  exhortations,  and  on  her  persistent 
refusal  beat  her  violently.  After  that  she  saw  no  more 
of  him  for  a  whole  day,  and  on  his  reappearance  he  looked 
and  spoke  more  calmly  ;  but  when  he  inquired  whether  she 
had  thought  better  of  it,  and  had  now  become  reconciled  to 
the  idea  of  resuming  a  dutiful  domestic  life  as  his  wife,  she 
answered  in  the  same  terms  as  before,  whereupon  he  flew 
into  a  moie  violent  passion  than  ever,  and  pulling  out  his 
pistol,  bade  her  say  her  last  prayers,  for  if  she  did  not 
instantly  consent  he  would  assuredly  kill  her.  Then  the 
poor  miserable  woman  went  down  upon  her  knees,  said  her 
prayers,  and  called  on  him  to  fire  ! 

Having  thus  failed  to  force  her  to  sign  or  to  resume 
cohabitation,  and  fearful  of  being  arrested,  Bowes  determined 
to  carry  her  abroad.  But  that  was  by  no  means  so  easy  a 
business  as  he  could  have  wished.  Rumours  of  what  was 
going  on  had  got  abroad,  and  the  colliers  of  the  county 
were  assembling  for  a  rescue.  When  the  tipstaffs  arrived 
they  found  c.  couple  of  hundred  people  or  more  surrounding 
the  castle ;  but  they  were  refused  admittance,  and  had  to 
serve  the  writ  of  habeas  corpus  by  pushing  it  under  one  of 

135 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

the  doors.     Although  thus  driven  into  a  tight  corner,  Bowes 
would  not  give  in.     He  dressed  up  two  of  his  domestics  to 
personate  himself  and  the  Countess,  and  ordered  them  to 
show  themselves,  as  though  engaged  in  amicable  conversa- 
tion, at  one  of  the  upper  windows.     This  ruse  caused  the 
people  to  disperse  quietly  to  their  homes,  and  enabled  him 
to  get  away  from  Streatlam  without  observation.     In  the 
middle  of  the  night  he  made  Lady  Strathmore  get  out  of  bed, 
and  when  she  had  put  on  some  of  her  clothes  he  completed 
her  attire  with  an  old  bonnet  belonging  to  one  of  the  serv^ants, 
and  a  man's  great-coat.     Then,  mounting  her  on  horseback 
behind  him,  he  rode  off  to  the  cottage  of  one  of  his  not  very 
reputable  dependants,    where   he   once    more    endeavoured, 
although    again    unavailingly,    to  procure  her  signature  by 
threats  and  blows.     At  daybreak  next  morning  he  mounted 
her  again  behind  him,  and,  after  a  terrible  journey  over  dismal 
heaths  and  wild  hills  covered  with  snow,  about  four  o'clock 
on  the  following  morning  they  reached  the  house  of  Thomas 
Bowes,  his  attorney,  at  Darlington.     While  there,  she  was 
shut  up  in  a  dark  room  and  threatened,  while  a  red-hot  poker 
was  held  to  her  breast,  with  a  mad  doctor  and  a  strait  waist- 
coat.    But  all  threats  were  in  vain,  and  next  day  he  set  out 
with  her  behind  him  on  horseback  once    more.     The  whole 
county  was  now  up  after  him,  however,   and   escape   was 
impossible,  notwithstanding  that  he  avoided  all  roads  and 
took  his  famished  and  perishing  captive  across   moors  and 
ploughed  fields  and  hedges  and  ditches.     A  constable  of  the 
parish  of  Neasham  deposed   that    when    he   cane  up  with 
Bowes,  whose  horse's  bridle  was  being  held   by  a  country 
labourer,  the  prisoner  had  one  pistol  in  his  belt  ^nd  another 
in  his  hand,  which  he  presented  and  threatened  :o  fire  with. 
But  the  constable  promptly  knocked  him  off  his  horse  with  a 
stout  cudgel,  and  perhaps  gave  him  an   additional  blow  or 
two  to  keep  him  quiet,  for  after  he  had  been  canied  into  an 
adjacent   alehouse  it  was  necessary  to  send  for  a  surgeon  to 
look  to  his  wounds.     Lady   Strathmore,    attended  by   her 

136 


MARY  ELEANOR,  COUNTESS   OF   STRATHMORE 

deliverers,  then  made  the  best  of  her  way  to  London.  When 
she  called  at  the  "  Red  Lion  "  at  Barnet  to  change  horses,  the 
landlord  said  she  was  dressed  "  in  a  bonnet  and  an  old  hand- 
kerchief, like  a  woman  that  was  sifting  cinders  in  Gray's  Inn 
Lane."  But  this,  of  course,  was  only  a  minor  evil.  The 
effect  on  her  nervous  system  of  the  treatment  she  had  received 
was  never  likely  to  be  effaced,  and  the  effect  on  her  limbs 
of  exposure  to  the  bitter  wintry  weather  was  such  that  she 
was  unable  to  stand  on  her  feet  for  a  month  after. 

On  November  24th,  a  fortnight  after  the  abduction,  appli- 
cation was  made  in  court  for  an  attachment  against  Bowes, 
which  was  immediately  granted.  His  counsel  applied  for 
the  matter  to  be  held  over  till  next  term,  proper  bail  being 
forthcoming,  on  the  ground  that  when  he  was  arrested 
Bowes  was  really  bringing  Lady  Strathmore  to  London  in 
accordance  with  the  writ  of  habeas  corpus ;  but  this  was  too 
impudent  an  assertion  to  obtain  credence.  On  Monday,  the 
27th,  while  at  Barnet,  on  his  way  to  London,  Bowes  sent  a 
letter  to  Jesse  Foot,  his  medical  man,  saying  he  was  sorely 
in  need  of  professional  attention,  and  soon  after  the  letter 
came  the  prisoner  himself,  looking  as  pale  as  ashes,  his  boots 
dirty,  his  shirt  and  cravat  stained  with  blood,  and  his  head 
bound  up  with  a  bloody  handkerchief.  He  wanted  Foot  to 
go  down  to  Westminster  Hall  and  certify  that  he  was  too  ill 
to  be  imprisoned.  Foot  agreed  to  do  this  provided  another 
medical  man  would  join  him,  but  when  another  surgeon  was 
sent  for  and  had  examined  him  they  had  to  tell  Bowes  that 
he  would  have  to  do  as  best  he  could  without  such  a  certifi- 
cate. On  the  way  to  the  court  Bowes  vomited  twice  in  the 
coach,  and  Foot  began  to  doubt  whether,  after  all,  he  might 
not  be  suffering  from  a  fractured  skull,  although  there  was 
no  other  symptom  of  it.  He  afterwards  found  out  that  while 
at  Barnet  the  artful  rascal  had  procured  a  dose  of  ipecacuanha, 
which  he  had  swallowed  after  he  got  to  London,  so  that  his 
symptoms  might  look  grave,  excite  sympathy,  and  save 
him  from  being  committed  to  prison.    But  this  trick  failed. 

137 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

When  he  walked  through  Westminster  Hall,  bent  almost 
double  and  supported  by  two  men,  he  was  saluted  with 
hisses  ;  and  when  his  counsel  argued  that  there  was  no  proper 
accommodation  in  the  prison  for  a  man  so  seriously  ill  as  he 
evidently  was,  the  marshal  remarked  in  a  loud  and  significant 
tone  of  voice  that  he  could  quite  easily  accommodate  the 
gentleman,  whereat  everybody  in  court  laughed  loudly. 
He  remained  safely  under  lock  and  key  therefore  until,  on 
May  30th  in  the  following  year,  he  and  his  accomplices  were 
charged  before  Mr.  Justice  Buller  and  a  special  jury  with 
"  a  conspiracy  against  the  Right  Hon.  Mary  Eleanor  Bowes, 
commonly  called  Countess  of  Strathmore."  The  trial  lasted 
from  nine  in  the  morning  till  half-past  four  in  the  afternoon, 
when,  after  a  few  minutes'  consideration  and  without  leaving 
the  box,  the  jury  brought  in  a  verdict  of  guilty  against  all 
the  prisoners.  The  sentences  were  of  various  degrees  of 
severity,  and  the  prisoners  were  committed  to  Newgate  or 
to  the  King's  Bench  according  to  their  status.  Bowes  was 
condemned  to  pay  a  fine  of  ;£"300,  to  be  imprisoned  in  the 
King's  Bench  for  three  years,  and  after  that  time  to  give 
security  for  his  good  behaviour  for  fourteen  years,  himself  in 
5^10,000  and  two  sureties  in  ^£'5,000  each. 

Of  course  when  his  appeal  against  the  decree  of  divorce 
came  on  in  the  Court  of  Arches  the  decision  was  given  against 
him.  But  what  was  of  even  more  importance  to  him  than 
this  was  the  result  of  another  suit  which  was  instituted  by 
the  trustees  of  the  Countess  in  the  Common  Pleas,  for  upon 
this  depended  whether  at  the  end  of  his  term  of  three  years 
he  should  come  out  of  prison  a  wealthy  man  or  whether  he 
should  be  entirely  crushed.  They  moved  to  have  set  aside, 
on  the  ground  that  it  had  been  obtained  under  duress,  the  deed 
which  she  had  executed  on  May  ist,  1777,  which  revoked  her 
ante-nuptial  deed  and  vested  all  her  estates  in  her  husband. 
It  was  shown  that  this  deed  of  revocation  excluded  the 
Countess  from  disposing  of  the  most  trifling  part  of  her  own 
property,  that  it  did  not  even  make  provision  for  any  children 

138 


MARY  ELEANOR,  COUNTESS  OF  STRATHMORE 

which  she  might  have  by  Bowes,  and  that  it  was  altogether 
such  a  deed  as  no  friend  or  responsible  adviser  would  have 
permitted  her  to  sign ;  and  it  was  shown  that  this  unreason- 
able deed  had  been  extorted  from  her  by  cruelty.  Much  of 
the  cruelty  proved  in  the  divorce  case  was  inadmissible,  as 
the  evidence  was  restricted  to  ill-usage  prior  to  the  execution 
of  the  deed,  which,  as  we  have  seen,  was  signed  less  than  four 
months  after  the  marriage ;  but  she  was  able  to  prove  that 
from  the  very  first  her  husband  had  deprived  her  of  liberty, 
that  the  use  of  her  carriage  had  been  denied  her  unless  with 
his  express  permission,  that  her  own  old  servants  had  been 
discharged,  and  the  new  ones  ordered  not  to  obey  her  com- 
mands or  even  attend  the  ringing  of  her  bell,  that  she  durst 
not  write  a  letter  without  his  inspection  nor  look  into  one 
addressed  to  herself  until  he  had  previously  perused  it,  that 
she  was  treated  with  foul  language  and  often  chastised  with 
blows.  Thus  had  the  "  dear  youth "  of  her  poem  fulfilled 
the  promise  made  to  her  mother  that  he  would  dedicate  his 
life  to  Lady  Strathmore's  service.  Needless  to  say,  the  deed 
of  revocation  was  set  aside,  the  ante-nuptial  deed  declared  to 
be  in  operation,  and  Lady  Strathmore  consequently  placed 
once  again  in  possession  of  her  own  fortune. 

This  gave  Bowes  his  coup  de  grace,  for  it  meant  not  only 
that  he  would  no  longer  have  the  fingering  of  a  penny  of  the 
Countess's  money,  but  that  he  would  be  charged  with  all 
that  he  had  drawn  from  her  estates  during  the  ten  years  that 
he  had  been  in  wrongful  possession  of  them,  and  would  con- 
sequently have  to  pay  up  this  large  sum  before  he  could  be 
liberated  from  his  prison.  At  first  he  sank  into  extreme 
despondency,  for  he  saw  nothing  but  prison  before  him  for 
the  remainder  of  his  life.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  did  remain 
in  prison  until  his  death,  twenty-two  years  afterwards,  passing 
from  the  state  rooms  which  he  occupied  at  first  to  the  ordinary 
apartments  within  the  walls,  and  then  living  for  about  the 
last  twelve  years  "within  the  rules,"  as  it  was  called,  in  St. 
George's  Fields.     After  a  while,  however,  he  pulled  himself 

139 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

together  and  determined  to  enjoy  life  in  his  own  characteristic 
fashion  so  far  as  the  restrictions  of  his  domicile  permitted. 
He  had  his  half-pay,  and,  although  it  was  encumbered  with 
mortgages,  he  still  retained  his  own  estate  of  Benwell.  He 
tried  to  become  acquainted  with  everybody  of  importance  or 
anybody  he  imagined  might  be  made  useful  to  him  within 
the  walls ;  but  Foot  declares  there  were  many  prisoners  who 
refused  to  associate  with  such  a  cruel  scoundrel,  although 
he  held  out  the  temptation  of  very  good  dinners.  Whatever 
the  cooking  may  have  been,  however,  the  dinners  cannot 
have  been  otherwise  very  attractive,  for  we  are  informed 
that  he  played  freakish  tricks  upon  his  guests  and  had  an 
ingenious  way  of  making  the  whole  of  his  company  drunk 
against  their  inclinations.  He  would  tell  them  to  help  them- 
selves to  spirits  from  the  bottles  on  the  table,  and  then 
himself  officiously  pour  the  diluting  water  into  their  glasses 
from  a  tea-kettle ;  but  he  had  instructed  his  servant  to  fill 
the  kettle,  not  with  plain  water,  but  with  a  mixture  of  half 
water  and  half  spirit,  so  that  the  more  his  guests  insisted  upon 
diluting  their  drink  the  more  intoxicated  they  became. 

Not  long  after  his  committal  to  the  King's  Bench,  Bowes 
desired  Foot,  who  was  continuously  in  professional  attendance 

on  him,  to  visit  a  young  lady.  Miss  Polly  S ,  the  daughter 

of  a  fellow-prisoner,  at  the  lodgings  of  her  mother  in  Lant 
Street.     What  was  the  object  of  this  visit  Foot  does  not 

say,  but  he  tells  us  that  Miss  S was  a  very  innocent  and 

charming  young  lady,  who  had  attracted  Bowes's  attention 
as  she  came  to  and  fro  on  visits  to  her  father,  a  gentleman 
of  some  landed  property  who  had  got  himself  into  difficulties 
by  an  intemperate  devotion  to  hunting.  By  paying  attention 
and  making  promises  to  the  father,  and  by  flattery  and 
presents  to  the  girl  herself,  he  at  last  induced  her  to  take 
up  her  quarters  with  him.  She  little  knew  what  that  meant, 
for  Foot  assures  us  that  Bowes  kept  her  "  literally  a  prisoner 
in  his  house  from  the  year  1787  to  the  day  of  his  death." 
She  had  five  children  by  him ;  and  although  the  surgeon 

140 


MARY  ELEANOR,  COUNTESS   OF   STRATHMORE 

was  sometimes  called  in  on  occasions  of  illness,  he  never  had 
any  opportunity  of  speaking  a  word  in  private  with  the  poor 
woman,  as  Bowes  was  always  present  and  always  hurried 
him  away  as  quickly  as  possible. 

In  1793  he  caused  to  be  printed,  and  published  at  the 
price  of  half  a  crown,  a  little  book  of  100  pages,  entitled 
"  The  Confessions  of  the  Countess  of  Strathmore,  written 
by  herself,  carefully  copied  from  the  original  lodged  in 
Doctors'  Commons."  These  "  confessions  "  doubtless  con- 
tain some  truth  as  well  as  a  good  deal  of  falsehood  of  his 
suggestion.  The  scoundrel  had  extorted  them  from  his  wife 
about  a  year  after  their  marriage,  and  they  had  constituted 
almost  his  only  defence  in  the  divorce  proceedings  ten 
years  afterwards,  when,  of  course,  they  were  of  no  use  to 
him,  because,  apart  from  all  question  of  how  they  had  been 
obtained,  they  related  only  to  indiscretions  that  had 
admittedly  taken  place  before  he  married  her.  Their  publi- 
cation at  this  time  was  probably  due  partly  to  spite,  and 
partly  to  his  belief  that  they  would  aid  him  in  certain  legal 
proceedings  which  he  had  in  contemplation.  But  it  was 
not  until  1797  that  he  commenced  a  suit  in  Chancery,  claim- 
ing the  surplus  rents  of  those  estates  which,  as  we  have 
seen,  had  been  set  aside  by  a  deed  executed  by  the  Countess 
and  himself  conjointly  soon  after  their  marriage  in  order  to 
raise  money  for  the  purpose  of  squaring  Mr.  Gray  and  pro- 
viding for  other  irnmediate  necessities.  Lady  Strathmore 
negligently  put  in  no  answer  to  this,  so  that  he  obtained 
judgment  by  default ;  and  in  great  glee  he  confidently  put  in 
his  application  to  be  put  in  possession  of  something  like 
j^6o,ooo.  But  before  he  could  get  the  money  paid  to  him 
Lady  Strathmore  died.  She  died  at  Christchurch,  Hants, 
on  April  28th,  1800,  and  her  body  was  brought  up  to 
London  to  be  buried  in  Westminster  Abbey,  "  arrayed  in 
a  superb  bridal  dress."  That,  however,  is  by  the  way. 
The  point  that  concerned  him  was  that  her  executors  and 
her  son,  Lord  Strathmore,  opposed  his  application,  and  he 

141 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

was  defeated.  About  the  same  time,  however,  fortune 
favoured  him  in  two  lesser  ways.  He  received  an  accession 
to  his  income  in  the  shape  of  a  freehold  in  Ireland  worth 
about  ;£"30o  a  j^ear,  and  he  was  permitted  to  move  out  of  the 
walls  of  the  prison  to  a  house  in  London  Road,  St.  George's 
Fields,  "  within  the  rules,"  whither  he  betook    himself  in 

company  with  Miss  Polly  S and  the  five  children.     He 

was  always  prosecuting,  or  threatening  to  prosecute,  a  suit 
of  some  kind ;  and,  with  his  usual  cunning,  he  often  managed 
to  obtain  money  or  credit  on  the  strength  of  the  probable 
results.  One  of  his  little  tricks  was  to  employ  a  copyist  to 
write  letters  to  or  about  himself.  One  purporting  to  be 
from  Lord  Strathmore,  and  offering  him  favourable  terms  of 
compromise,  he  carried  about  in  his  pocket,  and  occasionally 
produced  by  way  of  proof  that  he  would  soon  be  in  posses- 
sion of  a  considerable  sum  of  money.  Any  distant  creditor 
who  proved  unduly  troublesome  would  be  apt  to  receive  a 
letter,  apparently  coming  from  some  friend  of  Bowes,  con- 
taining the  information  that  that  harassed  and  penniless 
gentleman  had  shot  himself,  and  that  the  writer  had  just 
been  to  see  his  body  weltering  in  his  blood. 

In  June,  1807,  he  brought  the  last  of  his  actions,  which  is 
described  as  a  suit  to  ascertain  whether  the  deed  of 
revocation  set  aside  in  1788  had  really  been  obtained  by 
duress,  as  represented  by  Lady  Strathmore.  Of  course  he 
was  not  successful ;  but  it  probably  cost  him  nothing,  and 
perhaps  even  enabled  him  to  raise  a  little  money  by  a  side 
wind  during  the  proceedings.  As  he  grew  older  his  habits 
grew  baser.     Foot  tells  us  that  during  the  last  eight  years 

of  his  life  "he  scarcely  ever  saw  or  spoke  to  Miss  S ," 

and  that  he  "  allowed  her  but  one  meal  a  day."  He  kept 
no  servant,  and  was  so  niggardly  that  there  was  no  broom 
or  brush  in  the  house,  "  so  that  his  daughters  had  to  go 
down  on  their  knees  and  gather  up  the  dust  with  their 
hands."  He  used  to  read  a  newspaper  in  the  tavern,  but 
he  never  possessed  a  book,  and  Foot  was  of  opinion  that  he 

142 


MARY  ELEANOR,  COUNTESS   OF   STRATHMORE 

had  never  read  one  of  any  kind  from  the  hour  he  went  into 
prison  to  the  very  last.  He  survived  to  the  age  of  sixty- 
three,  and  died  on  January  i6th,  1810. 

It  is  strange  that  Bowes,  by  his  Pecksniffian  hypocrisy, 
should  have  been  able  to  impose  himself  on  a  good  many 
people  for  some  years  as  a  man  of  respectability  and  honour. 
He  was  not  merely  an  unscrupulous  fortune-hunter :  he 
considered  all  females  as  natural  game,  and  hunted  them 
down  as  so  vadiny  fercB  naUira.  He  did  not  know  what  friend- 
ship meant,  and  those  who  were  for  a  time  deceived  by  his 
superficial  agreeableness  and  plausibility  invariably  suffered 
for  it  afterwards.  Not  only  were  his  accomplices  abandoned 
to  their  fate  without  his  lifting  a  finger  to  help  them, 
Peacock  being  left  to  go  into  bankruptcy  and  his  valet 
Prevost  to  shift  as  best  he  could  with  a  broken  collar-bone 
and  a  blasted  character,  but  even  the  one  friend  who  had 
been  so  ready  to  help  him  in  financial  and  legal  matters  was 
treated  by  him  with  contumely  as  soon  as  it  suited  his 
purpose  to  do  so.  This  gentleman's  case  was  a  peculiarly 
hard  one,  for  although  he  had  prevented  the  abduction  of 
Lady  Maria  Jane,  preserved  the  family  jewels  for  the 
Strathmore  family,  and  made  two  journeys  to  France  at  his 
own  cost  in  order  to  get  Lady  Anna  Maria  restored  to  her 
guardians,  he  was  not  only  regarded  by  Bowes  as  an  enemy, 
but  at  the  same  time  suspected  and  censured  by  the  other 
parties  as  one  of  his  secret  accomplices,  thus  showing,  as 
Foot  philosophically  remarks,  that  "  reputations  may  be 
likened  to  the  positive  and  negative  powers  of  electricity, 
where  the  best-disposed  man  may  lose  his  character  by  too 
near  an  approximation  to  a  bad  one."  It  is  not  probable 
that  there  was  ever  any  inscription  to  the  memory  of 
Andrew  Robinson  Bowes  in  the  vault  of  St.  George's  Church, 
in  the  Borough,  where  he  was  buried ;  otherwise  the 
following  words,  in  which  his  character  was  summed  up  by 
the  medical  man  who  had  attended  him  for  thirty-three 
years,  might  have  provided  an  appropriate   epitaph  :    "  He 

143 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

was  cowardly,  insidious,  hypocritical,  tyrannic,  mean,  violent, 
selfish,  deceitful,  jealous,  revengeful,  inhuman,  and  savage, 
without  a  single  countervailing  quality."  But  it  is  a  very 
quaint  notion  of  the  good  doctor's  that  the  mere  recital  of 
such  a  person's  villainies  should  have  a  moral  effect  upon 
future  generations. 


144 


Bampkyi.uf,  MciOKI-.  ("arkw. 

From  ail  I'ligr/JT'iiix. 


IV 


A    PROFESSIONAL   BEGGAR— BAMPFYLDE- 
MOORE   CAREW 


N.D. 


IV 

A  PROFESSIONAL  BEGGAR— BAMPFYLDE- 
MOORE  CAREW 

During  the  greater  part  of  the  Georgian  era  England 
swarmed  with  beggars ;  and  although  from  time  to  time 
stringent  Acts  of  Parliament  were  passed  with  the  object  of 
putting  an  end  to  the  evil,  the  administration  of  such  laws 
was  culpably  lax,  and  in  many  districts  mendicancy  met  with 
little  or  no  opposition.  A  statute  of  1713  (13  Anne,  c.  26), 
most  of  the  provisions  of  which  were  re-enacted  during  the 
course  of  the  two  succeeding  reigns,  enumerates  as  rogues 
and  vagabonds — 

"  all  persons  pretending  themselves  to  be  Patent  Gatherers,  or 
collectors  for  prisons,  gaols,  or  hospitals,  and  wandring  abroad  for  that 
purpose,  all  Fencers,  Bearwards,  Common  Players  of  Interludes, 
Minstrels,  Jugglers,  all  persons  pretending  to  be  Gipsies,  or  wandring 
in  the  habit  of  Counterfeit  Egyptians,  or  pretending  to  have  skill  in 
Physiognomy,  Palmistry,  or  like  crafty  science,  or  pretending  to  tell 
fortunes,  or  like  phantastical  imaginations,  or  using  any  subtile  craft  or 
unlawful  games  or  plays,  all  persons  able  in  body,  who  run  awaj'  and 
leave  their  wives  or  children  to  the  parish,  and  not  having  wherewith 
otherwise  to  maintain  themselves,  use  loytring,  and  refuse  to  work  for  the 
usual  or  common  wages,  and  all  other  idle  persons  wandring  abroad  and 
begging." 

Pedlars  and  tinkers,  it  will  be  observed,  were  not  reckoned 
as  vagabonds.  And  certain  persons  were  actually  privileged 
to  beg,  including  soldiers  and  "mariners  or  seafaring  men," 
who  received  a  licence  or  testimonial  from  a  justice  of  the 
peace  setting  forth  the  place  from  which  they  came  and  the 
place  to  which  they  were  to  go.  But  any  other  person 
found  wandering  and  begging  without  a  licence  might 
be  publicly  whipped  and  then  sent  to  the  house  of  correction  ; 

147  L  2 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

and,  under  certain  conditions,  vagrants  might  be  handed 
over  as  servants  or  apprentices  for  seven  years  to  anybody 
willing  to  receive  them  either  in  Great  Britain  or  in  the 
plantations  beyond  the  seas.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  whole 
cargoes  of  such  poor  wretches  were  annually  shipped  off  and 
sold  to  the  planters  of  what  were  then  the  British  colonies  in 
America.  Such  being  the  condition  of  things,  mendicancy, 
it  might  be  thought,  was  hardly  the  profession  that  would 
have  insuperable  attractions  for  a  young  gentleman  of  good 
family  in  Devonshire.  Yet  so  it  was;  for  Bampfylde-Moore 
Carew,  a  scion  of  one  of  the  oldest  and  most  respectable 
families  in  the  west  of  England,  followed  this  occupation  for 
forty  years  or  more,  in  spite  of  all  sorts  of  inducements  that 
were  held  out  to  tempt  him  into  a  more  reputable  way  of 
life ;  and  during  the  whole  of  that  time  he  managed  to  keep 
the  people  of  the  western  counties  in  a  state  of  amused 
wonderment  by  his  ingenious  exploits,  going  about  in  a 
variety  of  disguises,  now  as  a  shipwrecked  mariner  or  a 
flooded-out  farmer  or  a  burnt-out  tradesman,  now  as  a  dis- 
tressed Quaker  or  a  non-juring  clergyman,  one  day  posing 
as  a  miserable  cripple,  another  day  as  a  wandering  lunatic, 
and  sometimes  even  changing  his  attire  for  that  of  the  other 
sex  and  passing  himself  off  for  a  tottering  old  woman. 

In  1745,  when  he  was  fifty-two  years  of  age  and  had  been 
a  celebrated  character  in  his  native  Devon  and  the  adjacent 
counties  for  thirty  3^ears  or  more,  there  appeared  at  Exeter  a 
little  quarto  volume  of  152  pages  professing  to  contain  the 
"  Life  and  Adventures  "  of  this  noted  stroller  and  dog- 
stealer  "  as  related  by  himself  during  his  passage  to  the 
Plantations  in  America."  The  anonymous  editor  of  this 
little  book  makes  no  bones  about  calling  Carew  a  rogue  and 
impostor,  and  hints  that  the  following  narrative  of  his 
exploits  was  drawn  from  him  partly  by  vanity  and  partly  by 
want  of  money ;  yet  although  the  credibility  of  the  stories 
might,  therefore,  be  thought  liable  to  grave  suspicion,  many 
of  them,  he  says,  must  be  so  well  known  to  everybody  in 

148 


BAMPFYLDE-MOORE   CAREW 

that  part  of  the  country  that,  as  the  pubHc  can  attest  the 
accuracy  of  these,  they  will  not,  perhaps,  be  much  incHned 
to  question  the  veracity  of  the  remainder.  He  would  have 
had  no  hand  in  the  publication,  he  declares,  but  for  his  belief 
that  the  book  might  be  of  use  in  guarding  well-meaning 
persons  against  similar  impositions  in  the  future  ;  and,  quite  in 
the  style  of  a  member  of  the  yet  unborn  Charity  Organisation 
Society,  he  takes  up  his  parable  against  indiscriminate  alms- 
giving as  being  mischievous  and  altogether  undeserving  of 
the  name  of  charity.  A  few  years  after  the  appearance  of 
this  little  book  at  Exeter  a  somewhat  similar  volume, 
entitled  "  An  Apology  for  the  Life  of  Mr.  Bampfylde- Moore 
Carew,"  etc.,  was  issued  in  London,  being  printed  for  R. 
Goadby  and  W.  Owen,  bookseller  at  Temple  Bar.  This 
"Apology"  appears  to  have  been  a  great  success,  for  numerous 
editions  of  it,  with  additional  stories  and  other  embellish- 
ments, appeared  during  the  latter  half  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  It  is  not,  as  bibliographers  have  too  hastily  assumed, 
a  mere  reprint  of  the  Exeter  volume,  for,  besides  omitting 
many  stories  told  in  the  earlier  book  and  containing  much 
that  the  other  does  not,  the  spirit  and  tone  of  the  relation 
are  altogether  different.  Timperley's  "  Dictionary  of 
Printers  "  states  that  it  was  written  by  Robert  Goadby, 
and  a  Tiverton  correspondent  of  Notes  and  Queries  in 
1857  wrote  to  say  he  had  heard  that  it  was  written  by 
Mrs.  Goadby  from  the  relation  of  B.  M.  Carew  himself. 
On  the  face  of  it,  this  seems  likely  enough.  We  may  be 
certain  that  the  "  King  of  the  Mumpers,"  having  been 
persuaded  in  a  moment  of  temporary  depression  and  impe- 
cuniosity  to  part  with  a  recital  of  some  of  his  curious 
professional  exploits,  would  be  far  from  satisfied,  especially 
as  he  had  then  no  intention  of  retiring  from  business,  to  find 
that  recital  accompanied  by  disparaging  comments  and 
warnings  to  the  charitable  against  being  similarly  imposed 
upon  in  future.  But  if  he  got  Robert  Goadby  or  his  wife  to 
put  together  this  little  book  by  way  of  counterblast  to  the 

149 


NOBLE   DAMES  AND   NOTABLE   MEN 

Exeter  volume,  his  selection  of  a  **  histriographer"  was  an 
unfortunate  one,  for  the  "  Apology,"  as  an  apology,  is  very 
poor,  consisting  mainly  in  gushing  eulogies  of  those  gulls 
who  were  most  free  with  their  money,  in  interjected  observa- 
tions on  the  beauty  of  tenderness  and  compassion,  and  in 
fervent  recommendations  to  its  readers  not  to  deny  them- 
selves the  enjoyment  of  "  that  most  Godlike  and  pleasing  of 
all  pleasures,"  the  luxury  of  relieving  the  distressed.  With 
the  "Apology"  as  an  apology,  however,  we  need  not  here 
concern  ourselves ;  and,  as  there  appears  to  be  no  reason  for 
doubting  the  substantial  accuracy  of  the  stories  related  in 
either  of  these  little  volumes,  there  is  no  need  to  particularise 
in  every  case  from  which  of  them  any  item  of  information  is 
drawn. 

Bampfylde  was  born  with  a  silver  spoon  in  his  mouth  ;  and 
we  are  assured  that  when  he  was  christened,  in  July,  1693, 
"  never  was  there  known  a  more  splendid  appearance  of 
gentlemen  and  ladies  of  the  first  rank  and  quality  at  any 
baptism  in  the  west  of  England."  His  godfathers,  Mr.  Hugh 
Bampfylde  and  Major  Moore,  had,  it  appears,  an  amiable 
altercation  as  to  whose  name  should  have  precedence ;  and 
as  they  tossed  for  it,  and  Mr.  Bampfylde  won,  he  presented 
the  infant  with  a  handsome  piece  of  plate  whereon  was 
engraved  in  large  letters  "  Bampfylde-Moore  Carew."  The 
boy's  father,  the  Rev.  Theodore  Carew,  rector  of  Bickleigh, 
near  Tiverton,  had  several  other  children,  both  sons  and 
daughters,  who  all  grew  up  to  be  respectable  members  of 
society,  and  never  did  anything  else  worthy  of  mention ; 
but  young  Bampfylde,  who  was  sent  to  school  at  Tiverton 
at  the  age  of  twelve,  made  such  progress  in  his  studies 
during  his  first  four  years  there  that  it  was  hoped  he  would 
one  day  make  some  figure  in  the  Church.  At  the  Tiverton 
school  he  likewise  became  very  intimate  with  a  number  of 
lively  young  gentlemen  of  rank  belonging  to  Devonshire  and 
the  adjacent  counties,  and  made  even  more  surprising  progress 
in  hunting  than  in  the  classics.     The  boys  somehow  managed 

150 


BAMPFYLDE-MOORE  CAREW 

to  keep  a  pack  of  hounds ;  and  amongst  Bampfylde's  most 
intimate  associates  in  this  sport  were  John  Martin,  Thomas 
Coleman,  and  John  Escott,  all  of  whom  we  shall  hear  of 
again.  One  day,  when  Bampfylde  was  about  sixteen  years 
of  age,  a  neighbouring  farmer  incautiously  informed  these 
lads  that  he  had  seen  in  a  field  near  by  a  fine  deer  with  a 
collar  round  its  neck.  Of  course  they  promptly  set  off  in  a 
body  to  hunt  the  animal.  The  chase  proved  a  hot  one, 
lasting  several  hours ;  and,  as  the  fields  were  ripe  for  harvest, 
much  damage  was  done.  The  owner  of  the  deer,  and 
farmers  and  others  who  had  suffered  severely,  came  and 
complained  to  the  schoolmaster,  so  much  fuss  being  made 
that  the  boys  appear  to  have  become  thoroughly  frightened. 
Next  day,  rather  than  face  the  music,  they  absconded  from 
school.  After  wandering  aimlessly  about  the  country  all  day, 
they  fell  in  with  a  company  of  gipsies,  who  were  carousing 
at  a  wayside  inn  with  such  apparent  happiness  and  freedom 
from  care  that  the  boys  thought  what  a  fine  life  theirs  must 
be,  and  offered  to  join  them.  The  gipsies  at  first  treated 
this  proposal  as  a  mere  jest ;  but  when  the  lads  stayed  all 
night,  and  earnestly  renewed  their  proposal  on  the  morrow, 
the  matter  assumed  another  aspect,  and  after  their  faces  and 
hands  had  been  stained  with  walnut  juice,  and  they  had 
taken  the  required  oaths  and  gone  through  the  necessary 
ceremonial,  they  were  duly  admitted  to  the  community. 
While  the  gipsies  remained  at  this  place  crowds  of  people, 
of  both  sexes  and  all  ages,  came  to  them  from  the  surround- 
ing districts  to  have  their  fortunes  told ;  and  probably  the 
boys'  knowledge  of  the  characters  and  circumstances  of 
many  of  them  came  in  very  useful.  The  first  person  off 
whom  Carew  made  any  considerable  score  was  a  Mrs. 
Musgrave,  of  Monkton,  near  Taunton,  who  suspected  a  large 
sum  of  money  to  be  buried  somewhere  about  her  house,  and 
sought  to  find  it  by  means  of  the  wisdom  of  the  Egyptians. 
Carew  took  her  case  in  hand,  and  after  making  a  great  parade 
of  consulting  his  secret  oracles,  etc.,  informed  her  that  the 

151 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

treasure  was  buried  underneath  a  certain  laurel  tree  in  her 
garden,  but  that,  as  her  favouring  planet  was  not  in  the 
ascendant  for  three  days  to  come,  she  must  on  no  account 
begin  to  dig  before  then.  Of  course  the  gipsy  wanted  his 
fee  at  once,  and  the  lady  was  so  overjoyed  at  the  prospect 
before  her  that  she  handed  him  the  sum  of  thirty  guineas. 
Three  days  later,  when  her  digging  had  revealed  nothing  but 
the  roots  of  her  laurel  tree,  needless  to  say,  Carew  and  his 
company  were  nowhere  to  be  found. 

The  parents  of  Bampfylde  and  the  other  lads  were  naturally 
in  great  distress  ;  but,  in  spite  of  numerous  advertisements, 
nothing  could  be  learned  about  any  one  of  them  until  after 
the  expiration  of  six  months,  when  Coleman  and  Martin 
returned  to  their  homes  and  told  what  they  had  been  doing. 
Messengers  were  then  despatched  to  all  the  alehouses  and 
other  known  gipsy  resorts  in  the  west  of  England,  but  no 
intelligence  of  Bampfylde  could  be  obtained  ;  and  it  was  not 
until  a  year  later  that  the  young  prodigal  put  in  an  appear- 
ance, being  moved  thereto,  as  he  declared,  not  because  he 
was  tired  of  his  companions,  but  because  he  had  heard  of  the 
distress  into  which  his  parents  were  plunged  on  his  account. 
He  was  received  with  open  arms,  the  fatted  calf  was  killed, 
the  church  bells  were  rung,  and  the  whole  parish  gave  itself 
up  to  festive  rejoicing  in  sympathy  with  its  good  rector. 
Everything  that  his  parents  and  friends  could  think  of  to  make 
home  agreeable  to  him  was  done  ;  but  the  vagabond  streak 
in  his  constitution  was  too  strong  to  be  eradicated,  for,  after 
remaining  only  two  months,  he  stole  quietly  away  to  rejoin 
his  wandering  associates,  and  was  ceremoniously  readmitted 
to  the  community  at  their  next  general  assembly.  Coleman's 
parents,  not  unnaturally,  thought  that  their  son  would  be 
content  with  the  roving  life  of  a  sailor,  and  accordingly 
placed  him  in  the  navy ;  but  the  same  fascination  was 
strong  upon  him  also,  and  before  long  Carew  had  the  satis- 
faction of  welcoming  his  old  schoolfellow  once  more  as  a 
travelling  companion. 

152 


BAMPFYLDE-MOORE   CAREW 

Carew's  professional  disguises  were  manifold,  and  his 
"  make-up  "  must  have  been  as  well  studied  as  that  of  an 
actor,  for  in  one  character  or  another  he  frequently  visited 
without  detection  those  who  were  well  acquainted  with  him, 
even  going  boldly  to  the  rectory  at  Bickleigh  and  answering 
the  questions  of  his  own  father  and  mother,  who  always 
inquired  anxiously  of  any  wanderer  for  news  of  their  missing 
son.  He  took  much  pride  in  his  ability  in  this  line,  and 
relates  that  he  once  raised  a  contribution  twice  in  one  day 
from  a  certain  Mr.  Jones  merely  because  he  had  heard  that 
gentleman  declare  that  it  was  impossible  for  anybody  to  be 
so  deceived.  In  the  morning,  with  sooty  face,  leathern  apron, 
woollen  cap,  and  dejected  countenance,  he  obtained  relief  as 
an  unfortunate  blacksmith  whose  all  had  been  consumed  by 
fire;  in  the  afternoon  he  again  extracted  money  as  a  pale 
and  sickly-looking  tinner,  supported  on  crutches,  who 
professed  to  be  totally  disabled  by  the  damps  of  the  mines 
and  compelled  to  solicit  charity  for  his  wife  and  seven  small 
children.  Whenever  he  heard  of  a  fire,  in  town  or  village, 
Carew  instantly  paid  a  visit  to  the  place,  and  having  acquired 
full  information  as  to  the  names  and  families,  the  trades  and 
circumstances,  of  the  sufferers  by  it,  first  artfully  singed  his 
coat  and  burnt  a  hole  in  his  hat,  and  then  tramped  the 
surrounding  country  representing  himself  as  one  of  these 
unfortunate  persons,  who  had  been  burnt  out  and  lost  his 
all.  Sometimes  he  managed  to  induce  a  sympathising  person 
of  creditable  reputation  to  write  him  a  letter  recommending 
his  case  ;  often  he  forged  such  letters  himself,  as  he  did  also 
passes  and  testimonials  from  justices  of  the  peace,  whose 
signatures  he  copied  from  the  licences  of  the  inns  at  which 
he  was  in  the  habit  of  staying.  One  of  the  most  profitable 
"lays"  was  that  of  a  shipwrecked  mariner;  but  finding  his 
technical  knowledge  insufficient  for  the  proper  support  of 
this  part,  he  determined  to  make  a  voyage  of  discovery. 
Having  apparently  saved  enough  money  for  the  purpose,  he 
persuaded  his  old  schoolfellow  Escott  to  bear  him  company  ; 

153 


NOBLE   DAMES   AND   NOTABLE   MEN 

and  the  two  of  them  took  ship  from  Dartmouth  to  Newfound- 
land, decently  habited  and  paying  their  own  passage.  By 
this  means  they  not  only  acquired  familiarity  with  nautical 
language  and  the  details  of  a  seaman's  life,  but  by  visiting 
all  the  settlements,  both  English  and  French,  and  informing 
themselves  of  the  names,  characters,  and  circumstances  of 
all  the  inhabitants  of  any  note  in  Newfoundland,  they  laid  in 
a  further  stock  of  information  which  was  capable  of  being 
turned  to  pecuniary  account.  After  their  return  from  this 
expedition  Carew  went  about  in  the  character  of  a  ship- 
wrecked mariner  whose  vessel  had  been  lost  when  homeward 
bound  from  Newfoundland,  and  belonged  to  Poole,  or  to 
Dartmouth,  or  to  any  other  port  according  as  the  newspapers 
reported  the  wreck  of  any  vessel  connected  with  the  district. 
But  deeming  his  education  still  incomplete,  the  next 
thing  Carew  did  was  to  apprentice  himself  to  a  noted  rat- 
catcher, who  also  pretended  to  cure  madness  in  cats  and 
dogs.  Bampfylde  had  already  some  reputation  as  a  dog- 
stealer,  and  often  took  hounds  and  setters  from  one 
neighbourhood  to  sell  them  at  a  good  price  in  another.  In 
fact,  from  his  schoolboy  days  he  had  been  supposed  to 
possess  some  mysterious  secret  which  caused  dogs  to  follow 
him  as  children  followed  the  pied  piper  of  Hamelin.  He 
spent  two  years  travelling  about  with  this  man,  and  found 
the  business  of  rat-catching,  combined  with  dog-stealing, 
both  a  pleasant  and  profitable  occupation.  But,  change  and 
novelty  having  still  greater  attractions,  he  presently  set  up 
as  a  rag  merchant.  As  this  trade,  however,  somewhat 
restricted  his  movements,  involved  the  renting  of  some  sort 
of  warehouse,  and  hampered  him  with  a  donkey  and  cart, 
he  soon  forsook  it,  and  incontinently  turned  himself  into  a 
"  Tom  o'  Bedlam."  With  no  shirt  to  his  back,  without  shoes 
or  stockings,  covered  only  with  a  blanket  or  an  old  and 
ragged  clergyman's  gown,  wearing  a  cap  of  fox-skin  with  the 
long  bushy  tail  hanging  down  behind,  his  beard  shaved  on 
one  side  of  the  face  only,  carrying  in  his  hand  a  large  horn, 

154 


BAMPFYLDE-MOORE   CAREW 

whereon  were  engraved  names  of  ancient  members  of  his 
family  (which  he  now  pretended  was  the  Welsh  family  of 
Morgan),  and  wearing  on  his  right  arm  a  piece  of  brass 
plate  made  after  the  model  of  a  certificate  from  Bedlam, 
Carew  presented  a  tragic  appearance  calculated  to  evoke 
both  pity  and  terror.  In  this  guise  he  boldly  marched  right 
into  any  house,  whether  great  or  small,  without  further 
notice  than  the  winding  of  his  horn,  claimed  kindred  with 
the  occupiers,  whoever  they  might  be,  and  confidently 
demanded  his  "rent."  This  was  a  very  profitable  line  of 
business,  for  his  distracted  look  and  incoherent  talk  and  frantic 
actions  prompted  many  to  give  him  money  out  of  pity,  whilst 
others  gave  merely  to  get  rid  of  such  a  nuisance,  and  many 
more  through  fear,  especially  those  who  lived  in  solitary  places. 
All  these  various  and  successful  begging  stratagems  not 
only  produced  a  constant  supply  of  coin,  but  also  procured 
him  such  favour  with  the  gipsy  community  that  on  the 
death  of  Clause  Patch  they  elected  Carew  to  be  their 
"  king."  On  this  occasion,  we  are  told,  the  following  ode 
was  sung  by  the  jubilant  electors  : — 

I. 

"  Cast  your  nabs'  and  cares  away  ; 
This  is  Maunders'  ^  holiday  : 
In  the  world  look  round  and  see 
Where  so  happy  a  King  as  He.*' 

II. 

"  At  the  crowning  of  our  King 
Thus  we  ever  dance  and  sing  : 
Where's  the  nation  lives  so  free 
And  so  merrily  as  we  ? 

III. 

"  Be  it  peace  or  be  it  war, 
Here  at  liberty  we  are  : 
Hang  all  Harmenbecks  * !  we  cry. 
We  the  Cuffin  Queerest  defy. 

1  Hats  or  caps.  ^  Beggars'.  ^  Pointing  to  the  new  king. 

"•  Constables.  ^  Justices. 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

IV. 

"  We  enjoy  our  ease  and  rest; 
To  the  field  we  are  not  prest ; 
And  when  taxes  are  increas'd, 
We  are  not  a  penny  cess'd. 

V. 

"  Nor  will  any  go  to  law 
With  a  Maunder  for  a  straw : 
All  which  happiness,  he  braggs, 
Is  only  owing  to  his  rags !  " 

Although  now,  owing  to  the  dignity  of  his  office,  Carew 
was  privileged  from  going  out  on  begging  excursions,  his 
zeal  never  slackened,  and  his  exploits  were  as  successful  as 
ever.  But  occasionally,  when  the  whim  took  him,  he  would 
make  "  a  very  genteel  appearance."  Having  a  curiosity  to 
see  Newcastle  and  the  coal  district,  he  travelled  thither, 
decently  attired,  and  put  up  at  reputable  lodgings,  where  he 
passed  for  the  mate  of  a  vessel  belonging  to  Dartmouth. 
While  there  he  became  acquainted  with  an  apothecary 
named  Gray,  who  had  a  very  charming  daughter,  with  whom 
the  vagrant  instantly  fell  in  love.  If  he  had  made  his 
addresses  to  the  young  lady  in  his  "kingly  "  habiliments,  he 
would  doubtless  have  been  driven  out  of  the  place  with 
scorn  ;  but  being  a  good-looking,  well-built  young  fellow, 
rather  handsomely  dressed,  and  possessed  of  a  remarkably 
oily  tongue,  he  had  little  difficulty  in  persuading  Miss  Gray 
to  elope  with  him.  They  were  duly  married,  and  spent  their 
honeymoon  at  Bath,  making  considerable  show  and  mixing  in 
the  society  of  the  place  as  an  evidently  very  well-to-do  young 
couple.  They  then  went  on  a  visit  to  an  uncle  of  Carew's, 
a  clergyman  at  Portchester,  who  received  them  with  great 
hospitality,  and  offered  to  make  Bampfylde  his  heir  if  he  would 
abandon  his  gipsy  life  and  settle  down  respectably.  But 
the  vagrant  was  not  to  be  persuaded.  When  Mrs.  Carew 
discovered  who  it  was  she  had  married  she  was  at  first 
extremely   disgusted ;    but   as   her  husband's   business   was 

156 


BAMPFYLDE-MOORE   CAREW 

evidently  a  good  money-making  concern,  and  as  he  at  once 
proposed  to  make  her  treasurer,  she  quickly  became  recon- 
ciled to  it,  and  even  occasionally  gave  a  hand  in  the  business 
herself.  Sometimes  she  travelled  about  with  him,  but  the 
usual  plan  was  for  him  to  leave  her  for  a  fortnight  or  so  at  a 
time  at  some  lodging-house  or  inn  and  return  to  her  there 
with  the  profits  of  his  exxursion. 

Of  course  nobody  could  ply  the  "  mumper's  "  trade 
without  encountering  occasional  reverses.  Carew  admits 
that  he  was  twice  publicly  whipped  and  several  times  clapped 
into  prison.  He  even  had  the  ill-luck  to  be  arrested  once  in 
mistake  for  another  man,  a  runaway  blacksmith  who  had 
made  off  with  several  of  his  customers'  horses.  When 
brought  up  for  examination  next  day,  he  had  little  difficulty 
in  proving  that  he  was  not  the  defaulting  blacksmith,  but 
Bampt'ylde-Moore  Carew,  King  of  the  Mumpers,  and  the 
justice  was  consequently  about  to  order  his  release,  when  a 
man  in  court  stood  up  and  insisted  on  his  being  committed 
as  a  rogue  and  an  impostor,  alleging  that  he  had  seen  him 
and  been  defrauded  by  him  the  previous  day  in  Bishop's 
Nimpton,  when  he  pretended  to  be  one  John  Palmer,  of 
Abbotsbury,  and  obtained  money  from  several  persons  by 
the  exhibition  of  certificates  to  that  effect,  the  signatures  to 
which  he  had  doubtless  forged.  Being  therefore  committed 
to  Exeter  gaol,  Carew  immediately  sent  for  his  wife,  and 
instructed  her  to  go  into  the  debtors'  ward,  opposite  to  where 
he  was  confined,  and  find  out  the  names,  characters,  and 
circumstances  of  those  who  were  confined  there.  When  she 
had  done  this  he  fixed  upon  a  certain  Mr.  Maddick,  who  was 
of  a  reputable  family,  well  known  throughout  the  county, 
and  whose  present  circumstances  were  more  than  ordinarily 
deplorable ;  and  when  Mrs.  Carew  had  gathered  all  the 
information  she  could  concerning  his  place  and  family  and 
misfortunes,  she  went  about  pretending  to  be  his  sister  and 
soliciting  contributions  for  his  relief.  Every  three  or  four 
days   she   brought   what   she   thus   collected,   not   to    poor 

157 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

Maddick  the  debtor,  but  to  Carew  the  mumper  and  dog- 
stealer,  who  was  thus  well  provided  for  as  long  as  his 
imprisonment  lasted.  Luckily  for  him  also,  when  he  was 
brought  up  before  the  justices  at  quarter  sessions  some  of 
them  happened  to  be  old  schoolfellows  of  his  at  Tiverton, 
who  not  only  let  him  off  without  punishment,  but,  after 
making  kind  inquiries  after  Martin  and  Coleman  and  Escott, 
invited  him  to  dinner  at  their  inn,  and  subscribed  several 
pounds  amongst  them  to  help  him  on  his  way.  But  the 
justices  were  not  invariably  friendty,  and  an  encounter  with 
one  of  them  changed  the  field  of  his  operations  for  sometime. 
Squire  Incledon,  of  Barnstaple,  owed  him  a  grudge,  and  got 
him  committed  to  Exeter  gaol  two  months  or  more  before  he 
could  be  brought  up  for  trial.  Then  he  was  brought  before 
a  hostile  bench  and  sentenced  to  transportation  for  seven 
years.  "  Thus,"  exclaims  his  apologist,  in  comical  heroics, 
"  thus  sudden  and  unexpected  fell  the  mighty  Caesar,  the 
master  of  the  world;  and  just  so  affrighted  Priam  looked  when 
the  shade  of  Hector  drew  the  curtains  and  told  him  that 
Troy  was  taken," 

Carew  and  about  a  hundred  other  convicts  were  packed  on 
board  the  Juliana,  Captain  Froude  commander,  and,  in  con- 
sequence of  bad  weather,  took  as  long  as  eleven  weeks  to 
reach  Maryland.  When  at  last  anchor  was  cast  in  Miles's 
River,  the  captain  fired  a  gun  as  signal  to  the  planters  to 
come  aboard  and  buy  his  cargo  of  convicts.  The  colonials' 
first  inquiry  was,  as  usual,  for  news  from  home,  and  the 
captain  informed  them  that,  just  before  he  left,  war  had  been 
declared  against  Spain.  Carew's  "  histriographer  "  never  by 
any  chance  mentions  a  date,  but  this  item  of  news  enables  us 
to  fix  the  year,  for  as  Walpole  declared  war  against  Spain  in 
October,  1739,  Carew  must  have  arrived  in  Maryland  early  in 
1740,  when  he  was  in  his  forty-seventh  year.  The  colonials' 
next  inquiry  was  whether  the  captain  had  brought  them  a 
good  supply  of  carpenters,  joiners,  blacksmiths,  weavers,  and 
tailors.     The  most  useful  artisans  were  soon  sold  ;  but,  as 

158 


BAMPFYLDE-MOORE   CAREW 

Carew  was  proclaimed  a  mendicant,  rat-catcher,  and  dog 
merchant,  there  were  no  bidders  for  him.  The  captain  took 
him  ashore  next  day,  and  was  trying  to  palm  him  off  over  a 
bowl  of  punch  at  a  tavern  as  an  excellent  scholar  who  would 
make  a  good  schoolmaster,  when  the  slippery  rogue  quietly 
absconded  and  made  off  into  the  woods;  but  he  was  soon 
recaptured,  and  after  a  whipping  an  iron  collar  was  fastened 
round  his  neck  such  as  was  then  put  upon  all  runaway 
slaves.  It  was  not  easy  to  get  rid  of  this  encumbrance  in 
Maryland,  as  any  one  who  assisted  in  removing  it  was  liable 
to  a  fine  of  £4^  and  six  months'  imprisonment.  He  escaped, 
however,  by  the  aid  of  a  Captain  Hervey  and  some  other 
west  of  England  men  of  his  acquaintance,  whose  ships 
happened  to  be  then  lying  in  the  harbour,  although  all  they 
could  do  for  him  was  to  provide  him  with  provisions  and 
direct  him  how  to  make  for  the  territory  of  some  friendly 
Indians,  whose  chief  called  himself  George  Lillycraft,  and  was 
the  son  of  one  of  that  party  of  so-called  "  Indian  kings  "  who 
visited  England  during  the  reign  of  Queen  Anne  and  are 
mentioned  in  Addison's  Spectator.  After  a  forced  march  of 
several  days  Carew  reached  the  habitation  of  these  Indians, 
who  received  him  hospitably  and  removed  his  iron  collar. 
He  dwelt  with  them  some  months  apparently,  and  exhibited 
such  skill  in  hunting  and  other  matters  that  they  wished  to 
adopt  him  and  offered  him  a  wife  from  the  family  of  their 
chief.  Had  he  been  content  to  stay  with  them,  perhaps  he 
might  have  become  King  of  the  Indians  instead  of  King  of 
the  Mumpers  ;  but,  apart  from  the  fact  that  he  was  genuinely 
attached  to  Mrs.  Carew,  he  evidently  regarded  the  latter 
dignity  as  the  higher,  and,  therefore,  seized  the  first  oppor- 
tunity that  presented  itself  to  cross  the  Delaware  and  make 
his  way  to  the  Quakers  of  Pennsylvania.  Of  course  he 
immediately  assumed  the  character  of  a  Quaker,  and  having 
acquired  a  good  deal  of  information  from  a  communicative 
barber,  went  on  from  one  place  to  another,  varying  his  story 
according  to  what  he  had  heard  of  his  hearers  and  getting 

159 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

liberal  assistance  everywhere.  In  one  town  he  found  the 
great  preacher  Whitelield  holding  forth  to  a  vast  concourse 
of  people,  who  had  come  from  all  parts  of  the  country  to 
hear  him.  The  mention  of  this  circumstance  again  enables 
us  to  fix  an  approximate  date  to  the  mumper's  narrative, 
and  to  some  extent  it  confirms  the  truth  of  his  story,  for  we 
know  that  Whitefield  went  to  America  in  October,  1739,  and 
that  for  eighteen  months  following  he  went  about  preach- 
ing through  Maryland,  Virginia,  Carolina,  and  Georgia. 
Benjamin  Franklin,  in  his  Autobiography,  tells  us  of  one 
particular  in  which  the  great  preacher  resembled  our  friend 
the  mumper,  viz.,  in  an  extraordinary  faculty  for  conjuring 
the  money  out  of  his  hearers'  pockets.  Franklin  had  dis- 
agreed with  Whitefield's  project  of  building  an  orphanage 
in  Georgia,  and  had  refused  to  contribute  to  the  scheme ; 
but  he  tells  us  : — 

"  I  happened  soon  after  to  attend  one  of  his  sermons,  in  the  course  of 
which  I  perceived  he  intended  to  finish  with  a  collection,  and  I  confi- 
dently resolved  that  he  should  get  nothing  from  me.  I  had  in  my 
pocket  a  handful  of  copper  money,  three  or  four  silver  dollars,  and  five 
pistoles  in  gold.  As  he  proceeded  I  began  to  soften,  and  concluded  to 
give  the  copper.  Another  stroke  of  his  oratory  made  me  ashamed  of 
that,  and  determined  me  to  give  the  silver ;  and  he  finished  so  admirably 
that  I  emptied  my  pocket  wholly  into  the  collector's  dish,  gold  and  all." 

It  would  have  been  extremely  interesting  if  we  could  have 
had  a  like  account  of  Carew's  effect  upon  Franklin,  but 
apparently  the  mumper  never  made  an  attack  upon  him. 
He  applied  to  the  preacher,  however,  sending  in  a  written 
petition,  on  account  of  the  difficulty  of  reaching  him  through 
the  crowd  of  his  admirers,  setting  forth  that  he  was  one  John 
Moore,  son  of  a  clergyman,  who  had  been  kidnapped  and 
taken  into  the  Havannah,  whence  he  had  escaped,  and  was 
now  anxious  to  return  to  his  friends  in  England.  Whitefield 
saw  him,  and  told  him  that  such  misfortunes  happened  by 
the  will  of  God  and  must  be  submitted  to  with  patience  and 
resignation,  but  at  the  same  time  he  took  out  his  pocket- 
book  and  presented  Carew  with  a  note  for  £^.     Then  the 

160 


BAMPFYLDE-MOORE   CAREW 

vagabond  went  on  to  Philadelphia,  where  he  called  on 
William  Penn,  who  gave  him  money  and  engaged  with  the 
captain  of  a  homeward-bound  ship  to  carry  him  to  England 
free  of  charge.  But  Carew  was  not  yet  ready  for  a  home- 
ward voyage,  as  he  wished  first  to  see  New  York  and  other 
places.  He  notes  the  fact  that  at  Penn's  house  the  door  was 
opened  by  a  negro  with  a  silver  collar  round  his  neck  similar 
to  the  iron  one  from  which  the  friendly  Indians  had  relieved 
his  own. 

At  length  he  took  ship  for  England,  and  the  vessel,  having 
a  favourable  wind,  ran  from  New  London  to  Lundy  in  a 
month  and  three  days.  The  sailors,  pleased  with  their  quick 
passage,  were  ver}' joyful,  anticipating  all  sorts  of  jubilation 
as  soon  as  they  got  ashore  ;  but  when  the  pilot  came  aboard 
he  informed  the  master  that  there  was  bad  news  for  his  crew, 
as  Captain  Goodere,  of  the  Rtiby  man-of-war,  which  was  then 
lying  in  the  King's  Road,  was  pressing  every  man  he  could 
lay  hands  on.  On  hearing  this  Carew  immediately  pricked 
his  arms  and  chest  with  a  needle,  and  rubbed  in  bay  salt  and 
gunpowder,  in  order  to  give  himself  the  appearance  of  having 
the  smallpox.  Then  he  lay  down  in  his  hammock,  with  a 
blanket  round  him,  groaning  and  pretending  to  be  very  sick, 
by  which  means,  when  a  lieutenant  from  the  Ruby  came 
aboard  and  peremptorily  demanded  all  the  crew,  the  artful 
mumper  was  the  only  one  who  was  not  taken.  This  must 
have  happened  about  the  close  of  the  year  1740,  and  it  is 
rather  strange  that  our  mumper  does  not  mention  the  fact 
that  Captain  Goodere  murdered  his  brother.  Sir  John 
Goodere,  Bart.,  on  board  the  Ruby  at  that  same  place  in 
January,  1741,  and  was  duly  hanged  therefor  after  trial  at 
the  ensuing  assizes.  As  soon  as  Carew  was  put  ashore  he 
went  to  a  place  called  Mendicants'  Hall  to  obtain  news  of 
his  wife,  and  after  he  had  found  her  he  paid  a  visit  to 
Bickleigh  ;  then,  his  foot  being  upon  his  native  heath,  he 
resumed  with  gusto  his  beloved  profession  of  mumping. 

One  day  he  was  a  poor  shipwrecked  mariner ;   the  next, 

N.D.  161  M 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

perhaps,  habited  in  gown,  cassock,  and  band,  he  was  a  non- 
juring  clergyman  who  had  been  turned  out  of  his  benefice, 
soHciting  charity  on  behalf  of  his  delicate  wife  and  starving 
children.  Then,  in  a  plain  dress  and  broad-brimmed  hat  and 
extraordinarily  demure  of  countenance,  he  would  go  "  thee"-ing 
and  "thou"-ing  about  as  a  Quaker  who  had  met  with  un- 
deserved misfortunes.  On  one  occasion,  disguised  as  a  tinker, 
he  had  an  altercation  with  his  brother,  the  vicar  of  Saltash,  in 
the  parlour  of  an  inn,  and  on  another,  dressed  as  a  fine  gentle- 
man, he  attended  a  cock-fight  and  laid  wagers  with  his 
cousin,  Sir  Coventry  Carew,  without  being  detected  in  either 
character.  Whenever  he  did  happen  to  be  detected  he  usually 
managed  to  turn  the  occasion  to  his  own  advantage  either 
by  raising  a  laugh  or  in  some  other  fashion,  as  in  the  follow- 
ing instance.  Although  very  well  known  to  the  family  of 
Squire  Portman,  he  boldly  marched  up  to  that  gentleman's 
house  one  day  in  the  habit  of  a  rat-catcher,  with  hairy  cap 
on  his  head,  buff  girdle  about  his  waist,  and  a  tame  rat  in  a 
little  box  by  his  side.  Meeting  the  squire  and  several  friends 
in  the  courtyard,  he  inquired  whether  their  honours  had  any 
vermin  to  be  killed.  "  Do  you  understand  your  business 
well  ?  "  inquired  the  squire.  "  Yes,  and  please,  your  honour," 
was  the  reply,  "  I  have  followed  it  many  years  and  been 
employed  in  his  Majesty's  yards  and  ships."  "Well,  then, 
go  in  and  get  something  to  eat,  and  after  dinner  we  will  see 
what  you  can  do."  After  dinner  he  was  called  into  the  great 
parlour,  where  was  a  large  company  of  ladies  and  gentlemen. 
"  Well,  honest  rat-catcher,"  queried  Mr.  Portman,  "  can 
you  lay  any  scheme  to  kill  the  rats  without  hurting  my 
dogs  ?  "  Being  assured  that  this  could  be  done  satisfactorily, 
Mr.  Portman  next  asked  the  rat-catcher  what  countryman 
he  was,  and  being  answered,  "A  Devonshire  man,"  promptly 
demanded  his  name.  Seeing  by  the  nods  and  smiles  of  some 
of  them  that  his  identity  had  been  discovered,  he  coolly 
spelled  out  "  B-a-m-p-f-y-1-d-e-M-o-o-r-e  C-a-r-e-w."  There 
was  a  general  laugh,  and  when  it  had  subsided  Carew  impu- 

162 


BAMPFYLDE-MOORE   CAREW 

dently    inquired,    "What    scabby   sheep    has   infected    this 
flock  ?  "      He  was  informed   that  the   only  person  present 
who  had  penetrated  his  disguise  was  the  Rev.  Mr.  Bryant, 
whereupon  he  turned  to  the  parson  and  asked  him  if  he  had 
forgotten  good  King  Charles's  rule, — referring  presumably  to 
the  story  of  that  king  having  once  detected,  but  declined  to 
expose,  a  thief  who  was  pursuing  his  occupation  amongst  the 
courtiers  in  Whitehall.     A  Mr.  Pleydell  then  expressed  his 
pleasure  at  seeing  one  of  whom  he  had  heard  so  much,  but 
whom  he  had  never  happened  to  set  eyes  on  before.    "  Do  you 
remember,"  asked  Carew,  "  a  poor  wretch  at  your  stable  door 
a  few  weeks  back,  with  an  old  stocking  round  his  head  instead 
of  a  cap  and  an  old  woman's  ragged  mantle  over  his  shoulders, 
who  declared  that  he  was  a  shipwrecked  sailor,  a  Tiverton 
man,  who  had  been  cast  away  on  the  coast   and  rescued 
from  a  watery  grave  by  a  Frenchman  ;  and  do  you  remember 
that,  after  testing  him  by  many  questions  about  the  people 
of  Tiverton,  you  gave  him  a  suit  of  clothes  and  a  guinea  ?  " 
Mr.  Pleydell  did  remember  that  wretched  object.     "  Well, 
sir,"  rejoined  Carew,  "that  wretched  object  was  no  other 
than  the  rat-catcher  whom  you  now  see  before  you."     The 
company  now  laughed  at  Mr.  Pleydell's  expense,  whereupon 
he  said,  "  I  will  lay  a  guinea  that  I  recognise  you  another 
time,  come  in  what  shape  you  will."     Some  of  those  present 
being  of  a  contrary  opinion,  the  wager  was  taken,  and  it  was 
agreed  that  Carew  should  try  his  ingenuity  upon  the  confident 
gentleman  the  next  time  he  happened  to  be  tramping  that 
part    of  the   country.      Having   given  the   company    much 
diversion,  a  liberal  collection  was  made  for  him,  and  he  took 
his  leave.    But  Parson  Bryant,  to  make  up  for  having  exposed 
him  on  this  occasion,  followed  him  out  and  told  him  that  the 
same  company  would  meet  at  Mr.  Pleydell's  house  within  a 
very  few  days,  and  advised  the  vagabond  to  take  that  oppor- 
tunity of  deceiving  them  all  together.     Carew  was  equal  to 
the  occasion ;  and  when  the  day  arrived,  after  a  clean  shave, 
he  dressed  himself  in  a  woman's  gown  and  petticoats,  had 

163  M  2 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

two  gipsy  children  strapped  on  his  back,  and  carried  in  his 
arms  a  little  humpbacked  child  whom  he  had  borrowed  of 
a  travelling  tinker.  As  soon  as  he  arrived  at  Mr.  Pleydell's 
door  he  put  a  hand  behind  him  and  pinched  the  two  children 
smartly  enough  to  set  them  both  screaming,  which  noise 
started  the  squire's  dogs  barking  and  disturbed  the  whole 
household.  Out  ran  one  of  the  maids  to  bid  the  old  woman 
take  her  squalling  brats  away,  as  they  discomposed  the  ladies. 
"  God  bless  their  Ladyships !  "  cried  the  old  woman.  "  I  am 
the  poor  unfortunate  grandmother  of  these  poor  helpless 
darlings,  whose  dear  mother  was  burnt  in  the  dreadful  fire 
at  Kirton  the  other  day;  and  I  hope  the  good  ladies,  for 
God's  sake,  will  give  me  a  trifle  to  keep  the  poor  famished 
infants  from  starving."  Then  the  old  woman  wept  copiously, 
and  the  sympathetic  maid  ran  in  to  acquaint  her  ladies  with 
the  melancholy  tale,  while  Carew  kept  on  surreptitiously 
pinching  the  brats,  so  that  they  maintained  a  howling  chorus. 
Presently  the  girl  returned  with  a  half-crown  from  the  ladies 
as  well  as  a  bowl  of  appetising  stew.  Learning  that  the 
gentlemen  were  not  in  the  house,  but  were  expected  to  arrive 
at  any  moment,  Carew  sat  down  in  the  yard,  prolonging  his 
meal  and  getting  one  of  the  under-servants  to  feed  the 
children  on  his  back.  While  this  was  going  on  the  gentle- 
men rode  into  the  yard.  "  Hallo,  old  woman  !  "  said  Mr. 
Pleydell ;  "where  did  you  come  from?"  "From  Kirton, 
please,  your  honour,"  squeaked  Carew,  "  where  my  daughter, 
the  mother  of  these  poor  helpless  babes,  was  burnt  to  death 
in  the  flames  " ;  and  then,  of  course,  followed  a  torrent  of 
circumstantial  details  and  pathetic  supplications.  "  Damn 
you  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Pleydell ;  "  there  has  been  more  money 
collected  for  Kirton  already  than  Kirton  was  ever  worth." 
However,  he  threw  the  weeping  old  grandmother  a  shilling, 
and  all  his  friends  followed  suit.  The  money  was  received 
with  the  most  profound  gratitude,  and  the  old  woman  hobbled 
away  into  the  road,  but  just  as  the  gentlemen  were  about 
to  enter  the  house  she  surprised  them  with  a   "  Tantivy  ! 

164 


BAMPFYLDE-MOORE   CAREW 

tantivy !  "  and  such  a  halloo  to  the  dogs  as  caused  her  to  be 
promptly  brought  back  and  her  disguise  stripped  off,  when, 
we  are  assured,  the  gentlemen  were  so  pleased  with  the 
ingenuity  of  the  deception  that  the  mumper  was  handsomely 
rewarded. 

Carew  and  his  mumper  associates  were  in  the  habit  of 
attending  all  the  fairs  in  the  west  of  England,  when,  made 
up  as  deaf  and  dumb,  or  blind,  or  maimed  unfortunates,  they 
would  plant  themselves  by  a  bridge  or  at  a  cross-road  at  the 
entrance  of  the  town  and  keep  up  a  loud  and  lamentable 
cry  all  day  long,  till  their  pockets  were  heavily  laden  with 
halfpence.  Once  when  he  was  at  Bridgwater  Fair,  together 
with  his  old  schoolfellows  Coleman  and  Escott,  there  were 
so  many  miserable-looking  objects,  halt,  and  maimed,  and 
blind,  and  deaf,  and  dumb,  asking  alms,  that  the  mayor 
suspected  the  majority  of  them  to  be  counterfeits.  Being  a 
humourist  in  his  way,  he  declared  that  he  would  make  the 
blind  see,  the  deaf  hear,  and  the  lame  walk ;  and,  as  a  first 
step  towards  their  cure,  he  had  the  whole  lot  arrested  and 
lodged  in  the  Dark  House.  They  passed  the  night  in  fear 
and  trembling;  and  early  next  morning  they  received  a  visit 
from  a  well-known  physician  of  the  town,  who  told  them 
they  must  expect  no  mercy  from  the  mayor,  who  would  deal 
with  such  as  were  not  what  they  represented  themselves  to 
be  with  the  utmost  severity  ;  but,  as  he  rather  sympathised 
with  them  himself,  he  advised  all  of  them  who  were  counter- 
feits to  make  a  bolt  for  it  as  soon  as  he  unfastened  the  door. 
The  mayor  and  aldermen  and  many  others  in  the  secret 
were  posted  opposite  the  prison  to  see  what  would  happen. 
No  sooner  had  the  doctor  unlocked  the  door  than  the  whole 
crowd  rushed  out  pell-mell :  the  deaf  had  heard  well  enough 
what  he  had  said ;  the  blind  had  no  difficulty  in  finding  the 
shortest  way  out  of  the  town  ;  the  lame  flung  away  their 
crutches  and  ran  like  hunted  deer.  In  fact,  there  was  only 
one,  a  really  lame  man,  who  failed  to  get  away ;  and  this 
poor   wretch,  after   being   brought    before   the    mayor   and 

165 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

admonished,  had  a  collection  made  for  him,  which  amply 
compensated  him  for  his  one  night's  imprisonment.  Carew 
relates  another  instance  in  which  an  eccentric  humourist  got 
the  better  of  him.  One  day,  as  he  was  begging  from  door  to 
door  in  Maiden  Bradley  in  the  habit  of  a  shipwrecked  sailor, 
he  saw  on  the  other  side  of  the  street  a  brother  mendicant 
mariner  doing  likewise.  The  fellow  crossed  over,  asked  him 
where  he  lay  last  night,  what  road  he  was  going,  and  several 
other  civil  questions,  and  then  proposed  that  he  should 
"  brush  into  the  boozing-ken  and  be  his  thrums,"  i.e.,  go 
into  an  alehouse  and  spend  threepence  with  him.  They 
compared  notes  about  the  country,  the  charitable  and 
uncharitable  families,  the  moderate  and  severe  justices,  and 
so  forth,  finally  agreeing  to  divide  that  village  between  them 
and  visit  the  neighbouring  gentlemen's  houses  together.  In 
course  of  conversation  by  the  way,  the  other  "  ancient 
mariner"  was  surprised  to  learn  that  he  had  entered  into  a 
temporary  partnership  with  the  celebrated  King  of  the 
Mumpers,  and  expressed  in  appropriate  slang  his  sense  of  the 
honour.  Presently  they  came  to  Lord  Weymouth's  place, 
where  it  was  agreed  that  Carew  should  act  as  spokesman. 
The  servants  bade  them  be  gone  unless  they  could  give  a  very 
good  account  of  themselves  and  of  the  countries  they  pre- 
tended to  have  come  from,  for  Lord  Weymouth,  who  had 
travelled  in  many  parts  of  the  world,  would  infallibly  detect 
any  impostor  and  have  him  whipped  and  committed  to 
Bridewell  without  mercy.  Carew,  however,  confidently  told 
a  harrowing  tale,  with  the  most  circumstantial  details,  of 
their  lamentable  misfortunes,  and,  as  his  Lordship  seemed  to 
be  just  then  out  of  the  way,  the  two  rogues  obtained  both 
money  and  victuals  from  the  housekeeper.  The  victuals 
they  exchanged  for  liquor  at  a  neighbouring  wayside  inn, 
where,  after  sharing  the  takings  of  the  day,  they  parted, 
each  having  mapped  out  for  himself  a  separate  excursion. 
But  now  the  second  beggar,  who  was  none  other  than  Lord 
Weymouth  himself,  hurried  back  to  his  own  house  by  a  private 

i66 


BAMPFYLDE-MOORE   CAREW 

way  through  the  park,  and  being  let  in  by  a  confidential 
valet,  changed  his  clothes,  and  immediately  sent  off  two  men 
on  horseback  to  apprehend  the  pretended  sailors  who,  as  he 
was  informed,    had  been   imposing  on  the  neighbourhood. 
His  servants,  who  had  no  suspicion  of  the  true  state  of  the 
case,  soon  returned  with  Carew,  but  reported  that  they  could 
find  no  trace  of  the  other  fellow.    Lord  Weymouth  questioned 
the  vagrant  roughly,  and  having  told  him  that  his  companion 
would    infallibly   be   caught   and   brought    in  very  shortly, 
assured  him   that  if,  on   separate  examination,  their  stories 
were  found  to  disagree,  it  was  "  cat-o'-nine-tails  "  and  Bride- 
well for  the  pair  of  them.     He  then  went  away,  donned  his 
beggar's  rags  once  more,  caused    his   confidential    man  to 
conduct  him  through  the  room   where    his    prisoner    was 
confined,  as  though  he  were  being  taken  elsewhere  for  separate 
examination,  changed  back  again  into  his  ordinary  attire,  had 
Carew  brought  before  him  in  another  room,  and  indignantly 
denounced  the  trembling  rascal  as  a  detected  impostor  who 
should  be  dealt  with  according  to  the  utmost  rigour  of  the 
law.      Having  diverted  himself  in  this  fashion  until  he  was 
tired  of  it,  Lord  Weymouth  sent  for  a  neighbour.  Captain 
Atkins,  who  he  knew  had  been  at  school  with  Carew   at 
Tiverton,  in  order  that  he  might  make  sure  of  his  captive's 
identity,  for  such  was  the  rascal's  celebrity  that  many  inferior 
mumpers  were   in  the  habit  of  endeavouring  to  pass  them- 
selves off  for  the  "  King."     Being  thus  satisfied  that  he  had 
caught  the  real  Simon  Pure,  he  confessed  that  it  was  he  who 
had  masqueraded  as  the  other  beggar,  and  they  all  made 
merry  together.     He  presented  Carew  with  a  good  suit  of 
clothes,  gave  him  ten  guineas  for  his  pocket,  took  him  to  the 
races,  introduced  him  to  his  friends  and  acquaintances,  and 
entertained   him    handsomely    for   several    days.      Thomas 
Thynne,  second  Viscount  Weymouth,  who  died  in  1750,  at 
the  age  of  forty,  is  the  hero  of  this  escapade,  and  is  other- 
wise unknown  to  history. 

A  Mr.  Thomas  Price,  of  Poole,  who  made  a  redaction  of 

167 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

the  "Apology"  in  1810,  states  that  he  was  well  acquainted 
with  Carew,  who,  realising  after  a  time  that  he  was  keeping 
his  wife  and  child  in  a  very  false  position,  determined  to  try 
his  fortune  in  a  totally  different  line  in  London.  He  was 
converted  to  this  better  way  of  thinking,  we  are  assured,  by 
an  eloquent  sermon  preached  by  a  right  reverend  bishop  ;  and, 
having  resigned  his  gipsy  sceptre,  devoted  himself  to  the 
highly  respectable  occupation  of  speculating  in  lotteries. 
The  speculation  proved  so  extraordinarily  successful  that 
after  a  very  few  years  he  was  able  to  buy  a  neat  and  com- 
fortable estate  in  his  native  west  country,  where  he  "  ended 
his  days  beloved  and  esteemed  by  all."  According  to  one 
account  this  took  place  in  1758,  according  to  another  in  1770. 
"  His  wife  died  some  time  before  he  did,"  says  Mr.  Price ; 
"  and  his  daughter,  to  whom  he  left  a  genteel  fortune,  married 
a  young  gentleman  of  the  neighbourhood,  and  at  the  present 
time  of  writing  "  (?  1810),  "  by  the  sweetness  of  her  behaviour 
and  amiableness  of  her  character,  is  a  blessing  to  herself,  a 
pattern  to  her  acquaintance,  and  an  honour  to  his  family." 
All  which  sounds  a  trifle  unlikely,  and  the  reader  may  take 
Mr.  Price's  word  for  it  or  not  as  he  pleases. 

The  "  histriographer  "  of  the  "Apology"  in  1750  describes 
Carew,  who  was  then  fifty-seven  years  of  age,  as  tall  and 
majestic,  strong  and  well  proportioned  of  limb,  with  regular 
features  and  "a  countenance  open  and  ingenuous,  bearing  all 
those  characteristical  marks  which  physiognomists  assert 
denote  an  honest  and  good-natured  mind."  The  engraving 
of  him  which  is  prefixed  to  the  book  appears  to  have  been 
made  after  a  portrait  by  "  Mr.  Philips,  a  celebrated  limner  of 
Porlock,"  who  painted  it  at  the  request  and  charge  of 
Mr.  Coplestone  Bampfylde.  It  represents  him  as  a  portly, 
resolute-looking,  square-jawed,  shrewd,  capable  man  of  affairs, 
much  more  like  a  dignified  chairman  of  quarter  sessions 
than  a  vagabond  beggar.  Unfortunately,  he  seems  to  have 
had  no  literary  faculty  ;  and  whoever  it  was  that  took  down 
his  recollections  was  not  only  equally  deficient  in  this  respect, 

168 


BAMPFYLDE-MOORE   CAREW 

but  also  without  sufficient  intelligence  to  make  any  inquisition 
into  his  motives  and  feelings.  The  restlessness,  the  passion 
for  the  open  air,  and  the  constitutional  reserve  or  aloofness, 
which  are  such  prominent  characteristics  of  all  the  vagabond 
spirits  who  have  taken  to  literature — of  Thoreau,  of  Richard 
Jefferies,  of  George  Borrow,  or  of  Mr.  W.  H.  Davies,  the 
poetic  "  super-tramp  "  of  our  own  day — were  his  in  full 
measure.     He  would  doubtless  have  said,  with  Mr.  Davies, 

"  This  is  a  jolly  life  indeed, 
To  do  no  work  and  get  my  need," 

or  have  exclaimed,  as  does  our  modern  "  super-tramp  "  : — 

"  Lord  !  who  would  live  in  towns  with  men, 
And  hear  the  hum  of  human  greed, 
With  such  a  life  as  this  to  lead  ?  " 

But  fiom  the  "  Apology  "  for  his  life  we  get  no  indication 
that  he  took  any  delight  in  birds  or  animals,  except  in 
snaring  them,  or  that  he  ever  brooded  on  the  loveliness  of 
the  English  country-side,  like  Mr.  Watts-Dunton's  "  Children 
of  the  Open  Air," 

"  Loving  the  sun,  the  wind,  the  sweet  reproof 
Of  storms,  and  all  that  makes  the  fair  earth  fair." 

It  is  apparent,  however,  that  he  must  have  had  a  good 
deal  of  humour,  considerable  insight  into  human  nature 
many  of  the  qualifications  of  an  actor,  and  a  power  of 
imparting  an  air  of  reality  to  imaginary  events  which, 
combined  with  an  aptitude  for  using  the  pen,  would  have 
made  his  fortune  as  a  novelist.  He  seems  to  have  been 
considered,  and  to  have  considered  himself,  as  a  sort  of 
popular  entertainer.  The  country  squires  whom  he  hoaxed, 
though  not  always  very  pleased  when  they  were  themselves 
deceived,  were  always  hugely  delighted  to  see  their  neigh- 
bours taken  in,  and  then  found  Carew's  tricks  "  as  good  as 
a  play."  It  is  as  impossible  for  us  to  be  angry  with  the 
rascal  as  it  was  for  them,  and  we  may  let  him  march  out  of 

i6g 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

these  pages  repeating  the  tti  quoque  which  he  prefixed  to  Mr. 
(or  Mrs.)  Goadby's  recital  of  his  adventures  : — 

"  Be  not  too  hasty,  most  gentle  reader.  Of  whatever  profession  thou 
art,  lay  thy  hand  upon  thy  heart  and  consider  if  thou  hast  never  imposed 
upon  mankind. 

"  Art  thou  honoured  with  the  grave  title  of  Doctor  ?  Recollect  if  you 
never  prescribed  and  took  fees  when  you  were  sensible  your  patient  was 
incurable.  Did  you  never  agree  with  the  Apothecary  ,  .  .  and 
prescribe  ten  times  more  drugs  and  potions  than  were  necessary,  .  .  . 
whilst  he,  in  turn,  sounded  the  trumpet  of  your  praise  .  .  .  when 
the  patient,  perhaps,  would  have  recovered  much  sooner  without  the 
presence  of  either  ? 

"But  perhaps  the  reader  is  some  Gentleman  of  the  Law.  If  so,  let  him 
consider,  before  he  is  angry  with  me,  if  he  never  took  in  hand  a  bad 
cause,  and  assured  his  client  of  the  goodness  of  it  ?  .  .  .  And 
when  he  has  been  cast  in  one  court,  has  he  not  by  specious  promises 
and  false  hopes  enticed  his  client  to  try  the  issue  in  another  ?  .  .  . 
Or  has  he  never  agreed  with  his  brother  counsellor  ...  to  spin 
out  the  cause  by  unnecessary  delays,  till  they  got  the  oyster  between 
them,  and  left  their  clients  nothing  but  the  shells  ? 

"  But  perhaps  some  plodding  honest  tradesman  is  reading  my  Memoirs, 
with  loud  exclamations  at  my  cheats  and  impostures.  But  he  must  be 
much  better  than  his  neighbours  if  he  has  never  contrived  to  darken  his 
shop  windows  to  prevent  his  customers  seeing  the  flaws  in  his  goods ;  if 
he  has  never  put  off  a  bad  commodity  for  a  good  one  ;  or  made  his  goods 
weigh  heavier  than  when  he  bought  them." 

As  the  recital  of  Carew's  career  is  hardly  likely  to  induce 
any  one  to  go  and  do  likewise,  we  may  be  content  to  let  the 
mumper  have  the  last  word. 


170 


Elizabicth   I.ahv   II(M.i.A\n. 

From  an  cn^rai'ing  oj  tlic  fiortrnit  by  I'agaii. 


A    UNIQUE   HOSTESS— ELIZABETH,   LADY 

HOLLAND 


A    UNIQUE    HOSTESS— ELIZABETH,    LADY 

HOLLAND 

It  is  a  pity  that  the  generation  which  knew  Ehzabeth, 
Lady  Holland,  passed  away  without  leaving  us  from  the 
hands  of  some  one  of  the  many  who  enjoyed  her  acquaint- 
tance,  and  were  otherwise  specially  qualified  for  the  task,  a 
memoir,  or  at  least  a  character  sketch,  of  one  who,  as  a 
contemporary  observed,  "  left  a  more  marked  impression  of 
her  individuality  than  any  woman  of  her  age."  And,  in  the 
absence  of  any  such  memoir,  it  seems  worth  while  to  gather 
together  from  a  variety  of  scattered,  and  in  some  cases  not 
very  readily  accessible,  sources  such  notices  as  her  contem- 
poraries have  put  upon  record  of  this  remarkable  woman, 
who  for  the  greater  part  of  the  earlier  half  of  the  nineteenth 
century  was  the  most  conspicuous  female  figure  (royalty 
excepted)  in  the  splendid  society  of  London, 

Her  entrance  on  the  historic  scene  was  made  in  a  way 
that  might  have  been  expected  to  prove  a  permanent  barrier 
against  any  subsequent  social  success.  Henry  Richard,  third 
Lord  Holland,  who  succeeded  to  the  title  at  the  age  of 
nineteen,  in  1792,  had  been  in  the  following  year  sent  abroad 
by  his  guardians  in  order  to  quench  what  they  considered  a 
premature  interest  in  politics.  In  1794  he  had  settled  for 
a  time  at  Florence,  and  while  there  had  made  the  acquaint- 
ance of  the  beautiful  wife  of  Sir  Godfrey  Webster,  a  Sussex 
baronet.  The  lady,  who  was  Holland's  senior  by  some 
three  years,  was  the  only  child  and  heir  of  Richard  Vassal,  a 
wealthy  planter   of  Jamaica,  and  had  been  married  to  Sir 

173 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

Godfrey  when  but  sixteen  years  of  age.  The  marriage  was  a 
particularly  unhappy  one,  owing  to  faults  upon  both  sides ; 
and  she  appears  to  have  been  left  by  herself  in  Florence 
while  her  husband  followed  his  accustomed  pursuits  else- 
where, the  result  of  which  was  that  she  had  a  son  which 
Lord  Holland  acknowledged  to  be  his,  and  that  when  he 
returned  home  in  the  spring  of  1796  Lady  Webster  travelled 
with  him,  and  continued  to  live  with  him  after  their  arrival 
in  England.  Sir  Godfrey  Webster  naturally  instituted  pro- 
ceedings for  a  divorce  by  Act  of  Parliament,  and  two  days 
after  the  Bill  had  been  assented  to,  Lord  Holland  and  the 
lady  were  quietly  married  at  a  church  in  the  country.  Such 
was  the  inauspicious  beginning  of  a  union  which,  neverthe- 
less, appears  to  have  lasted  with  unabated  satisfaction  to 
both  parties  until  Lord  Holland's  death,  forty-three  years 
afterwards. 

Immediately  after  his  return  to  England  Lord  Holland  set 
about  the  restoration  of  the  family  mansion  at  Kensington  ; 
and,  before  saying  anything  more  about  the  remarkable 
woman  who  was  thus  rather  strangely  brought  home  to  be 
its  mistress,  it  may  be  well  to  devote  a  few  words  to  the 
house  itself,  for  undoubtedly  its  exterior  architectural 
beauty,  its  interior  arrangements,  as  remarkable  for  comfort 
as  for  luxury  and  splendour,  its  collection  of  varied  objects 
of  art,  and  its  almost  unbroken  chain  of  political  and  literary 
associations,  stretching  back  for  nigh  upon  three  centuries, 
form  a  combination  which  has  given  to  Holland  House  the 
first  place  amongst  our  metropolitan  palaces.  Sir  James 
Mackintosh  at  one  time  proposed  to  write  its  history ;  but, 
although  he  commenced  making  notes,  and  received  from  the 
lady  who  is  the  subject  of  the  present  sketch  a  good  deal  of 
valuable  information  for  the  purpose,  this  proved  to  be  but 
one  of  Mackintosh's  many  projects  which  were  never  carried 
into  execution.  Some  notion  of  the  beauty  and  the  interest- 
ing associations  of  the  place,  as  well  as  of  the  characters  of 
its  various  tenants  and  guests,  may,   however,  be  obtained 

174 


ELIZABETH,    LADY   HOLLAND 

from  the  splendid  book  on  the  subject,  illustrated  with  several 
fine  steel  engravings  of  portraits,  forty  heliotype  illustrations, 
and  an  abundance  of  woodcuts,  which  was  written  by 
Princess  Liechtenstein  and  published  by  Messrs.  Macmillan 
in  two  quarto  volumes  in  1873.  From  this  source  we  learn 
that  somewhere  about  1624  Sir  Henry  Rich,  who  became 
successively  Baron  Kensington  and  Earl  of  Holland,  added 
to  the  centre  and  turrets  of  what  was  then  known  as  Cope 
Castle  those  wings  and  arcades  which  are  so  pleasant  a 
feature  of  what  has  ever  since  been  known  as  Holland  House. 
Its  next  occupant  is  said  to  have  been  the  Parliamentary 
General  Fairfax ;  and  after  him  another  of  Cromwell's 
lieutenants,  General  Lambert,  held  his  headquarters  at 
Holland  House  in  1649.  The  second  Earl  of  Holland,  who 
succeeded  to  the  earldom  of  Warwick  in  1673,  nevertheless 
continued  to  make  this  house  his  principal  place  of  residence  ; 
and  in  1716  the  widow  of  his  son  and  successor  gave  the 
place  its  first  distinctively  literary  association  by  her  marriage 
with  Joseph  Addison.  It  was  to  what  afterwards  became  the 
dining-room  of  Holland  House  that  Gay  was  invited  by 
Addison  to  give  his  forgiveness  for  some  injury,  he  knew  not 
what,  and  the  young  Earl  of  Warwick  summoned  to  "  see 
how  a  Christian  could  die."  When  this  young  earl  himself 
died,  in  1721,  the  estate  devolved  upon  a  cousin,  William 
Edwardes  (afterwards  Lord  Kensington) ;  but  during  the 
following  thirty  years  the  house  had  a  variety  of  more 
distinguished  tenants,  including  Sir  John  Chardin,  the 
Persian  traveller,  Sir  Anthony  Van  Dyck,  the  great  painter, 
and  William  Penn,  the  founder  of  the  colony  of  Pennsylvania. 
There  is  a  tradition  that,  after  the  Revolution  of  1688, 
William  theThird  had  some  thought  of  making  Holland  House 
a  royal  palace ;  but  if  so,  he  changed  his  mind.  Its  connec- 
tion with  the  Fox  family  dates  back  no  further  than  to  about 
the  middle  of  the  reign  of  George  the  Second,  when,  in  1749, 
it  was  let  on  lease  to  Henry  Fox  for  what  nowadays  appears 
the  absurdly  small  rental  of  jTiSa  i6s.  gd.  per  annum  ;  and  that 

175 


NOBLE    DAMES   AND    NOTABLE   MEN 

rapacious  politician  after  his  elevation  to  the  peerage  as 
Lord  Holland  became,  in  1767,  the  owner  of  the  place. 
Henry  Fox  was  already  the  tenant  of  this  "  suburban  palace 
and  paradise,"  says  Sir  George  Trevelyan/  when  his  son 
Charles  James  was  born  ;  but  "  the  noise  of  carpenters  and 
the  bustle  of  upholsterers  obliged  Lady  Caroline  to  choose  a 
lodging  in  Conduit  Street  for  the  scene  of  an  event  which 
would  have  added  distinction  even  to  Holland  House."  Of 
Charles  James's  elder  brother,  the  second  Lord  Holland, 
little  need  be  said ;  but  w^hen  Henry  Richard,  the  third 
lord,  returned  to  England  in  1796,  as  already  mentioned,  he 
immediately  set  to  work  to  restore  the  place  to  something  of 
its  former  glory.  He  restored  it  in  two  ways,  says  Princess 
Liechtenstein  :  practically,  by  fitting  it  up  at  great  expense 
for  his  own  habitation  ;  and  intellectually,  by  bringing  about 
him  there  a  circle  of  wits  and  geniuses  who  invested  it  with 
greater  brilliance  than  it  had  enjoyed  even  in  the  days  of 
Addison.  How  considerable  a  part  in  this  undertaking 
was  played  by  the  lady  whom  he  married  in  1797  is  abun- 
dantly shown  in  the  various  memoirs  and  diaries  of  the 
period. 

Elizabeth,  Lady  Holland,  gave  Sir  James  Mackintosh  a 
list  of  the  celebrities  she  had  entertained  during  her  reign  at 
Holland  House  ;  and  Princess  Liechtenstein  prints  this,^  with 
a  kind  of  thumb-nail  character  sketch  appended  to  each 
name.  Thus  Talleyrand  is  described  as  "the  diplomatic 
wit  and  witty  diplomatist  who  cared  not  which  party  he 
supported,  provided  it  was  the  stronger  "  ;  Madame  de  Stael 
as  the  writer  "  who  in  graceful  French  painted  Italy,  and  in 
solid  French  digested  German  literature  ";  Sir  Philip  Francis 
as  he  "whose  supposed  authorship  of  'Junius'  places  him 
in  historical  interest  on  a  level  with  the  wearer  of  the  iron 
mask "  ;  Dr.  Parr  as  the  eccentric  scholar  "  whose  attain- 
ments and  Whig  principles  gave  him  fame,  and  whose  horror 

1  "  The  Early  Life  of  Charles  James  Fox,"  p.  41. 
"Holland  House,"  by  Princess  Liechtenstein,  Vol.  L,  pp.  143 — 152, 

176 


ELIZABETH,    LADY   HOLLAND 

of  the  east  wind  was  such  that  Tom  Sheridan  once  kept  him 
in  the  house  for  a  fortnight  by  fixing  the  weathercock  in  an 
easterly  direction,"  and  so  forth.     The  hst,   which  is  con- 
fessedly by  no  means  complete,  includes  Metternich,  the  two 
Humboldts,    and  Canova,   in  addition   to   the   two   foreign 
celebrities  already  cited ;  legal  luminaries  such  as  the  four 
great  Lord  Chancellors,  Thurlow,   Eldon,   Brougham,  and 
Lyndhurst,  with  Curran  and  Sir  Samuel  Romilly  ;    Count 
Romford  and  Sir  Humphry  Davy  amongst  men  of  science  ; 
Sheridan,    Sir    Philip    Francis,      Dr.     Parr,    Lord    Byron, 
Thomas  Moore,   Jeffrey,    Rogers,    Luttrell,    Sydney  Smith, 
Macaulay,  and  others  too  numerous  to   mention,    amongst 
wits  and  men  of  letters ;  and  amongst  politicians  nearly  all 
the  celebrities  of  the  Whig  party  for  half  a  century. 

The   success  of  the  Holland  House  dinners  was  due  to 
several  causes  :   the  invariable  excellence  of  the  dinner  itself ; 
the  charm  of  the  hospitable  host's  manner  and  conversation  ; 
the  brilliancy  of  the  company  gathered  together  ;  the  fascina- 
tion of  the  hostess,  notwithstanding  certain  unpleasant  traits 
in    her  character ;    and   the    exquisite   art   with   which   she 
directed  and  controlled  the  scene.      The  excellence  of  the 
dinners   was    admitted   on   all    hands ;    but   it   was   left   to 
Abraham    Hayward^ — a   not   very  frequent  diner  there — to 
suggest  that  that  excellence  was  in  great  part  due  to  Lady 
Holland's    habit    of  levying   contributions   on   guests   who 
inhabited  districts  famous  for  venison,  poultry,  game,  or  any 
other  edible.     He  relates  that,  the  praises  of  the  mouton  des 
Ardennes  having  been  sounded  at  her  table  when  M.  Van  de 
Weyer  was  present,  she  commissioned  that  ambassador  to 
procure  her  some.     He  sent  an  order  for  half  a  sheep,  which 
the  clerks  in  the  Foreign  Office  in  Brussels,  finding  it  marked 
tres  presse,  imagined  to  be  a  bundle  of  despatches,  and  for- 
warded by  special  messenger.     The  affair,  he  says,  got  wind, 
and  caused  the  Belgian  journals  to  ring  the  changes  for  a 
week  or  more  on  the  epicurean    habits  of  his   Excellency. 

1  "  Sketches  of  Eminent  Statesmen  and  Writers,"  Vol.  II.,  pp.  216,  217. 
N.D.  177  N 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

The  charm  of  Lord  Holland's  manner  and  conversation  was 
also  admitted  on  all  hands.  Moore  noted  with  approbation 
in  his  diary  in  1818  a  remark  of  Rogers's  to  the  effect  that 
Lord  Holland  always  came  down  to  breakfast  like  a  man 
upon  whom  some  good  fortune  had  suddenly  fallen  ;  and 
the  usually  mordant  Greville  after  Lord  Holland's  death,  in 
1840,  remarked^  that  no  man  ever  had  so  great  and  general 
a  popularity  :  "  His  marvellous  social  qualities,  imperturbable 
temper,  unflagging  vivacity  and  spirit,  his  inexhaustible  fund 
of  anecdote,  extensive  information,  sprightly  wit,  with 
universal  toleration  and  urbanity,  inspired  all  who  approached 
him  with  the  keenest  taste  for  his  company,  and  those  who 
lived  with  him  in  intimacy  with  the  warmest  regard  for  his 
person."  Lady  Holland's  organisation  of  the  dinners  and 
control  of  her  guests  have  often  been  commented  on,  but  by 
no  one  with  greater  point  than  Sir  Henry  Holland,  the 
celebrated  physician,  who  was  an  intimate  friend  of 
some  thirty  years'  standing.  In  his  "  Recollections  "  he 
recalls  some  of  the  dinners  at  Holland  House,  and  remarks 
that  English  and  foreign  Ministers  and  diplomatists,  men 
of  learning  and  science,  poets,  artists,  and  wits,  were  so 
skilfully  commingled  as  to  make  it  sure  that  none  but  a 
master-hand  could  have  accomplished  the  result.  And  the 
master-hand  was  undoubtedly  that  of  the  mistress  of  the 
house. 

"  Supreme  in  her  own  mansion  and  family,  she  exercised  a  singular 
and  seemingly  capricious  tyranny  even  over  guests  of  the  highest  rank 
and  position.  Capricious  it  seemed,  but  there  was  in  reality  intention 
in  all  she  did ;  and  this  intention  was  the  maintenance  of  power,  which 
she  gained  and  strenuously  used,  though  not  without  discretion  in 
fixing  its  limits.  No  one  knew  better  when  to  change  her  mood,  and 
to  soothe  by  kind  and  flattering  words  the  provocation  she  had  just 
given,  and  was  very  apt  to  give.  .  .  .  Her  management  of  conversation 
at  the  dinner-table — sometimes  arbitrary  and  in  rude  arrest  of  others, 
sometimes  courteously  inviting  the  subject — furnished  a  study  in  itself. 

>  "  Journal  of  the  Reigns  of  William  IV.  and  George  IV.,"  Part  II.,  Vol.  I., 
P-  341- 

178 


ELIZABETH,   LADY   HOLLAND 

Every  guest  felt  her  presence,  and  generally  more  or  less  succumbed 
to  it."i 

He  adds  that  she  was  acute  in  distinguishing  between 
real  and  false  merit,  and  although  not  a  woman  of  wit  in 
words,  might  be  described  as  a  consummate  practical  wit  in 
all  her  relations  to  society.  Once,  towards  the  end  of  her 
life,  she  spoke  to  him  of  the  labour  she  had  undergone  in 
maintaining  her  position  ;  and  he  remarks  that  the  informa- 
tion was  not  necessary,  as  his  own  observation  had  made 
him  well  but  silently  aware  of  it. 

Beautiful,  clever,  and  well  informed,  says  Princess  Liech- 
tenstein,^ Lady  Holland's  habit  of  contradiction  occasionally 
lent  animation,  not  to  say  animosity,  to  her  conversation, 
though  she  could  generally  accomplish  the  difficult  feat  of 
carrying  off  a  disagreeable  thing  cleverly.  Lady  Holland's 
contradiction,  however,  was  by  no  means  always  disagreeable. 
Moore,  in  his  diary,^  speaks  of  a  dinner  at  Holland  House 
in  1825  when  she  maintained  a  contest  with  great  spirit  and 
oddity  against  Lord  Holland  and  Allen  on  the  subject  of 
General  Washington,  whom  she,  "  with  her  usual  horror  of 
the  liberal  side  of  things,"  disliked  and  depreciated.  But, 
he  says,  "  the  talent  and  good  humour  with  which  she  fought 
us  all  was  highly  amusing."  Greville,  at  a  later  date, 
chronicles  an  "  agreeable  "  dinner  which  was  enlivened  by  a 
"  squabble"  between  Lady  Holland  and  Allen,  "at  which  all 
the  company  were  ready  to  die  of  laughing."  Her  despotic 
rule  there  is  no  denying.  To  begin  with,  the  guests  were 
always  invited  by  herself.  Rogers  told  Dyce  *  that  Lord 
Holland  never  ventured  to  ask  any  one  to  dinner  without 
previously  consulting  her  Ladyship  ;  and  he  frequently  came 
to  his  own  dinner-table  without  knowing  whom  he  would 

1  "Recollections  of  Past  Life,"  by  Sir  Henry   Holland,  Bart.,   Second 
Edition,  p.  229. 

2  "  Holland  House,"  Vol.  I.,  pp.  156,  157. 

3  "  Memoirs,  Journals,  and  Correspondence  of  Thomas  Moore,"  Vol.  IV., 

PP-  313.  314- 
*  "  Recollections  of  the  Table  Talk  of  Samuel  Rogers  "  (1856),  p.  275. 

179  N  2 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

meet.  Shortly  before  his  death  Rogers  called  at  Holland 
House,  and  found  only  Lady  Holland  within  ;  but  as  he  was 
coming  out  he  met  Lord  Holland,  who  asked,  "  Do  you 
return  to  dinner  ?  "  "No,"  answered  Rogers,  "I  have  not 
been  invited  "  ;  and  that  was  final.  Then  she  insisted  upon 
dining  at  the  unusual  hour  of  five  ;  and  although,  as  Greville 
observes,  nothing  could  be  more  inconvenient  than  such  a 
shortening  of  the  day  and  lengthening  of  the  evening,  her 
power  over  society  was  sufficient  to  compel  people  to  get  to 
her  house  at  that  hour.  Greville  says  she  was  always  fancy- 
ing she  was  ill,  and  that  the  state  of  her  health  made  it 
necessary  for  her  to  dine  early  ;  but  Talleyrand  declared 
that  she  did  it  merely  pour  gener  tout  le  monde.  She  also 
systematically  crowded  her  table.  Greville  noted  in  August, 
1832,^  that  he  had  been  to  "  a  true  Holland  House  dinner," 
for  two  more  people  (Melbourne  and  Tom  Duncombe) 
arrived  than  there  was  room  for,  "  so  that  Lady  Holland 
had  the  pleasure  of  a  couple  of  general  squeezes,  and  of 
seeing  her  guests'  arms  prettily  pinioned."  This  practice 
gave  occasion  for  one  of  Luttrell's  hon  mots}  Once,  when 
the  company  was  already  tightly  packed,  an  unexpected 
guest  arrived,  and  she  instantly  gave  her  imperious  order, 
"  Luttrell,  make  room, "  whereupon  the  wit  replied,  "  It 
certainly  must  be  made,  for  it  does  not  exists  Moore 
mentions^  that  one  day  in  1842,  as  he  was  going  in,  he  found 
in  the  hall  a  victim  of  another  of  her  ways  of  making  room, 
in  the  person  of  Gore,  who  was  putting  on  his  great-coat  to 
take  his  departure,  having  been  sent  away  by  her  Ladyship 
for  want  of  room ;  and  after  he  had  taken  his  place,  he 
says,  the  pressure  was  so  great  that  Allen,  after  performing 
his  carving  part,  retired  to  dine  at  a  small  side  table.  But 
Moore  adds  that,  according  to  Rogers,  the  close  packing 
of  Lady  Holland's  dinners  was  one  of  the  secrets  of  their 

'  "  Journal  of  the  Reigns  of  William  IV.  and  George  IV.,"  Part  I..  Vol.  II., 
p.  316. 

2  "  Holland  House,"  Vol.  I.,  p.  58. 
^  Moore,  Vol.  VII.,  p.  313. 

180 


ELIZABETH,   LADY   HOLLAND 

conversableness  and   agreeableness ;    and   he  is  inclined  to 
think  that  Rogers  was  right. 

Of  course  the  imperious  rule  extended  to  the  drawing- 
room  also.     As  Macaulay  wrote  to  his  sister  in  1831,' — 

"  The  centurion  did  not  keep  his  soldiers  in  better  order  than  she 
keeps  her  guests.  It  is  to  one,  '  Go  1 '  and  he  goeth  ;  to  another,  '  Do 
this,'  and  it  is  done.  '  Ring  the  bell,  Mr.  Macaulay.'  '  Lay  down  that 
screen.  Lord  Russell,  you  will  spoil  it.'  '  Mr.  Allen,  take  a  candle,  and 
show  Mr.  Craddock  the  pictures  of  Bonaparte.'  " 

Sir  Charles  Lyell,  some  years  later,  remarked  on  the  inde- 
scribable singularity  of  her  way  of  questioning  people,  like  a 
royal  personage.  But  this,  together  with  her  tap  of  the  fan 
and  such  a  command  as  "  Now,  Macaulay,  we  have  had 
enough  of  this ;  give  us  something  else,"  was  not  altogether 
mere  caprice.  One  who  had  evidently  observed  her  well 
wrote : — 

"  Beyond  any  other  hostess  we  ever  knew,  and  very  far  beyond  any 
host,  she  possessed  the  tact  of  perceiving  and  the  power  of  evoking  the 
various  capacities  which  lurked  in  every  part  of  the  brilliant  circle  she 
drew  around  her.  To  enkindle  the  enthusiasm  of  an  artist  on  the  theme 
over  which  he  had  achieved  the  most  facile  mastery ;  to  set  loose  the 
heart  of  the  rustic  poet,  and  imbue  his  speech  with  the  freedom  of  his 
native  hills ;  to  draw  from  the  adventurous  traveller  a  breathing  picture 
of  his  most  imminent  danger,  or  to  embolden  the  bashful  soldier  to 
disclose  his  own  share  in  the  perils  and  glories  of  some  famous  battle- 
field ;  to  encourage  the  generous  praise  of  friendship,  when  the  speaker 
and  the  subject  reflected  interest  on  each  other,  or  win  the  secret  history 
of  some  effort  which  had  astonished  the  world  or  shed  new  light  on 
science  ;  to  conduct  these  brilliant  developments  to  the  height  of  satis- 
faction, and  then  to  shift  the  scene  by  the  magic  of  a  word,  were 
among  her  daily  successes.  "^ 

It  was  not  everybody,  however, who  could  bear  the  restraint 
she  imposed.  When  Lord  Dudley  was  asked  why  he  so  per- 
sistently refused  to  dine  at  Holland  House,  he  replied  that 
he  did  not  choose  to  be  tyrannised  over  while  he  was  eating 
his  dinner^;    and  on    one  occasion  she   so   fidgeted   Lord 

1  "  Life  and  Letters  of  Lord  Macaulay,"  Popular  Edition,  p.  151. 

2  Gentleman's  Magazine,  1846,  Part  I.,  p.  go. 

s  Sir  Henry  Holland's  "  Recollections,"  p.  230. 

181 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

Melbourne  by  making  him  shift  his  place  when  he  was  seated 
to  his  liking  that  he  rose,  exclaiming,  "  I'll  be  damned  if  I 
dine  with   you  at  all  !  "    and  walked  off  to  his  own  house. 
She  also  occasionally  aroused    rebellion    by   exhibitions   of 
temper  and  unwarrantable  rudeness.     She  is  reported  to  have 
said  even  to  her  old  friend    Rogers,  "  Your  poetry  is  bad 
enough,    so   pray   be   sparing   of    your   prose."      To    Lord 
Porchester  she  remarked,    "  I    am  sorry  to   hear   you    are 
going  to  publish  a  poem.     Can't  you  suppress  it  ?  "     And 
Moore  himself  records  in   his  diary  that,  being  one  day  in 
rather  a  bravura  mood,  she  asked  him  how  he  could  write 
those  "  vulgar  verses  "  about  Hunt ;  on  another  occasion  told 
him  she  had  two  objections  to  reading  his  "Lalla  Rookh  "  : 
in  the  first  place  it  was  Eastern,  and  in  the  second  place  it 
was  in  quarto  ;  and,  yet  again,  violently  attacked  his  "  Life  of 
Sheridan,"  telling  him  it  was  "  quite  a  romance  "  and  showed 
"want  of  taste  and  judgment."     He  says  he  told  her  she 
might  go  on,  as  he  took  anything  and  everything  in  good 
part   from  her.     But  he   confides  to  his  diary  that  "  poets 
inclined  to  a  plethora  of  vanity  would  find  a  dose  of  Lady 
Holland  now   and  then   very  good   for   their  complaint."  ^ 
Macaulay  relates  that  one  day  in  November,  1833,  she  came 
to  dinner  at  Rogers's,  with  Allen,  in  so  bad  a  humour  that 
they  were  all  forced  to  rally  and  make  common  cause  against 
her,  for  there  was  not  a  person  at  the  table  to  whom  she  was 
not  rude.     So  "  Rogers  sneered  ;    Sydney    made    merciless 
sport  of  her ;   Tom  Moore  looked  excessively  impertinent ; 
Bobus  put  her  down  with  simple  straightforward  rudeness  ; 
and    I    treated   her   with  what  I    meant  to  be  the  coldest 
civility."^    It  is  satisfactory  to  learn  that  her  Ladyship  after- 
wards showed  herself  to  be  the   better  for  this   discipline. 
Now  and  again  a  quick-witted  guest  scored  heavily. 

"Shortly  after  M.  Van  de  Weyer's  arrival  in  England  as  Belgian 
Minister,  he  was  dining  with  a  distinguished  party  at  Holland  House, 
when   Lady    Holland   suddenly   turned   to   him   and    asked,  '  How  is 

»  Moore,  Vol.  VII.,  p.  41.  '  Macaulay,  "  Life,"  p.  246. 

182 


ELIZABETH,    LADY   HOLLAND 

Leopold  ? '  '  Does  your  Ladyship  mean  the  King  of  the  Belgians  ? '  'I 
have  heard,'  she  rejoined,  '  of  Flemings,  Hainaulters,  and  Brabanters, 
but  Belgians  are  new  to  me.'  His  reply  was  in  French,  in  which  the 
conversation  had  been  partly  carried  on  :  '  Miladi,  avant  d'avoir 
I'honneur  de  vous  etre  presents,  j'avais  entendu  souvent  parler  de  vous, 
non  seulement  comme  d'une  femme  d'esprit,  mais  aussi  une  femme  qui 
avait  beaucoup  lu.  Eh  bien  1  est-il  possible  que  dans  vos  nombreuses 
lectures  vous  n'ayez  pas  rencontre  le  livre  d'un  gargon  nomme  Jules 
Cesar — gar9on  de  beaucoup  d'esprit — qui  dans  ses  '  Commentaires  ' 
donne  a  tout  notre  population  le  nom  de  Beiges,  et  ce  nom  nous  avons 
conserve  depuis  lui  jusqu'a  nos  jours  ?  '"^ 

The  American  George  Ticknor,  who  saw  much  of  the 
Hollands  during  his  first  visit  to  England,  in  i8ig,  gained  a 
similar  victory.  She  offended  him  by  remarking  that  she 
believed  New  England  was  originally  colonised  by  convicts 
sent  over  from  the  mother-country.  He  politely  replied  that 
he  was  not  aware  of  it  ;  but  he  happened  to  know  that  some 
of  the  Vassal  family  had  settled  early  in  Massachusetts, 
where  a  house  built  by  one  of  them  was  standing  in 
Cambridge,  and  a  marble  monument  to  a  member  of  the 
family  was  to  be  seen  in  King's  Chapel,  Boston.  It  is 
notable,  however,  that  she  always  bore  with  calmness  and 
even  good  humour  any  outbreaks  of  indignation  which  she 
had  provoked,  and  that  she  both  respected  and  liked  those 
who  were  not  afraid  to  treat  her  with  spirit  and  freedom. 
Ticknor,  for  instance,  who  never  came  to  like  Lady  Holland, 
admits  that  her  politeness  and  even  kindness  to  him  in  after- 
years  was  probably  due  to  the  foregoing  passage  of  arms 
between  them  at  the  beginning  of  their  acquaintance.^ 

Some  observers  seem  to  have  been  unable  to  see  any  but 
the  unpleasant  traits  in  Lady  Holland's  character.  The 
mischievous — not  to  say  malicious — Creevey,  for  example, 
whose  gossiping  "Papers"^  were  published  a  year  or  two  back, 
has  hardly  ever  a  good  word  to  say  for  her.      He  nicknamed 

1  A.  Hayward,  "Biographical  and  Critical  Essays,"  New  Series,  Vol.1., 
p.  290. 

2  "  Life,  Letters,  and  Journals  of  George  Ticknor,"  Second  Edition,  Vol.  I., 
p.  219. 

s  "The  Creevey  Papers,"  edited  by  Sir  Herbert  Maxwell,  Bart. 

183 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

her  "old  Madagascar,"  and,  according  to  his  account, while 
she  flattered  and  courted  him,  he  more  often  than  not 
declined  her  invitations,  because  he  could  not  stand  the 
artificial  bother  and  crowded  table  of  her  house,  and  found 
her  presumption  not  to  be  endured.  In  January,  1821,  he 
represents  her  as  looking  very  forlorn  and  discontented 
because  the  temporarily  more  popular  Lady  Jersey  was 
taking  her  company  away  from  her,^  and  in  December  of 
the  following  year  as  disgusting  her  habitues  by  setting  up  a 
huge  cat,  to  whose  vagaries  she  demanded  unqualified  sub- 
mission from  all  her  visitors.  Rogers,  he  says,  sustained 
some  injury  in  an  encounter  with  the  animal ;  Brougham 
only  managed  to  keep  it  at  arm's  length  by  means  of  snuff ; 
and  Luttrell  sent  in  a  formal  resignation  of  all  future  visits 
till  the  new  and  odious  favourite  should  be  dismissed.^  And 
her  behaviour  at  other  people's  houses  he  represents  as  even 
worse  than  in  her  own.  He  met  her  in  July,  1833,  at  Lord 
Sefton's,  and  thus  describes  the  scene  : — 

"  She  began  by  complaining  of  the  slipperiness  of  the  courtyard  and 
of  the  danger  of  her  horses  falling,  to  which  Sefton  replied  that  it 
should  be  gravelled  the  next  time  she  did  him  the  honour  of  dining 
there.  She  then  began  to  sniff,  and  turning  her  eyes  to  various  pots 
filled  with  beautiful  roses  and  all  kinds  of  flowers,  she  said,  '  Lord 
Sefton,  I  must  beg  you  to  have  those  flowers  taken  out  of  the  room, 
they  are  so  much  too  powerful  for  me.'  Sefton  and  his  valet  Paoli 
actually  carried  the  table  and  all  its  contents  out  of  the  room.  Then 
poor  dear  little  Lady  Sefton,  who  has  always  a  posy  as  large  as  life  at 
her  breast  when  she  is  dressed,  took  it  out  in  the  humblest  manner,  and 
said,  '  Perhaps,  Lady  Holland,  this  nosegay  may  be  too  much  for 
you  ? '  But  the  other  was  pleased  to  allow  her  to  keep  it,  though  by 
no  means  in  a  very  gracious  manner.  Then,  when  candles  were  lighted 
at  the  close  of  dinner,  she  would  have  three  of  them  put  out,  as  being 
too  much,  and  too  near  her.     Was  there  ever  ?  "' 

The  letters  of  Joseph  Jekyll  convey  a  similar  impression. 
The  Hollands,  he  said,  resembled  the  different  ends  of  a 

'  "  Creevey  Papers,"  Vol.  IL,  p.  9. 
2  Ibid.,  Vol.  IL,  p.  58. 
8  Ibid.,  Vol.  IL,  p.  25O. 

184 


ELIZABETH,   LADY   HOLLAND 

magnet,  one  attractive,  the  other  repulsive.^  In  October, 
1820,  when  he  dined  and  slept  at  Holland  House,  he  reported, 
"  Miladi,  from  repletion  eti  petite  sanie,  as  usual" ^,-  and  ten 
years  later  all  he  could  say  of  either  the  master  or  the 
mistress  of  the  house  was,  *'  Lord  Holland  has  the  gout,  and 
Miladi  the  blue  devils."^  Fanny  Kemble  has  nothing  but 
unpleasant  impressions  to  record  of  Lady  Holland.  She 
first  met  her  at  a  dinner  at  the  house  of  Samuel  Rogers  in 
1837,  when,  it  appears,  her  Ladyship  drank  out  of  her  neigh- 
bour Sydney  Smith's  glass  and  otherwise  behaved  herself  with 
"the  fantastic  domestic  impropriety  in  which  she  frequently 
indulged,  and  which  might  have  been  tolerated  in  a  spoilt 
beauty  of  eighteen,  but  was  hardly  becoming  in  a  woman  of 
her  age  and  personal  appearance."  After  dinner  Fanny's 
sister  Adelaide  joined  the  party,  and  sat  for  a  few  moments 
beside  Lady  Holland,  who  dropped  her  handkerchief. 

"Adelaide,  who  was  as  unpleasantly  impressed  as  myself  by  that 
lady,  for  a  moment  made  no  attempt  to  pick  it  up  ;  but  reflecting  upon 
her  age  and  size,  which  made  it  difficult  for  her  to  stoop  for  it  herself, 
my  sister  picked  it  up  and  presented  it  to  her,  when  Lady  Holland, 
taking  it  from  her,  merely  said,  '  Ah  !  I  thought  you'd  do  it.'  Adelaide 
said  she  felt  an  almost  irresistible  inclination  to  twitch  it  from  her 
hand,  throw  it  on  the  ground  again,  and  say,  '  Did  you  ?  Then  now 
do  it  yourself.'"* 

Fanny  Kemble  goes  on  to  say  that  it  was  always  a  matter 
of  amazement  to  her  that  Lady  Holland  should  have  been 
allowed  to  ride  rough-shod  over  society,  as  she  did  for  so  long 
with  impunity  ;  and  she  ventures  the  opinion  that  people 
generally  gave  way  to  her  Ladyship  partly  because  of  the 
respect  and  even  affection  inspired  by  Lord  Holland,  partly 
for  the  sake  of  their  hosts  and  fellow-guests,  and  partly, 
perhaps  chiefly,  because  of  the  immense  attraction  of 
Holland   House,  with  all  its  various  associations,  and  the 

1  "  Correspondence  of  Joseph  Jekyll  with  his  Sister-in-Law,"  p.  176. 

2  Ibid.,  p.  103. 
8  Ibid.,  p.  217. 

*  "  Records  of  Later  Life,"  Vol.  I.,  pp.  96.  97. 

185 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

brilliant  and  distinguished  company  who  frequented  it.^  But 
the  explanation  is  hardly  adequate.  At  any  rate,  the  brilliant 
and  distinguished  company  who  frequented  Holland  House 
cannot  be  said  to  have  assembled  there  in  spite  of  Lady 
Holland  ;  and,  as  Greville  well  says,  although  everybody 
found  something  to  abuse  or  ridicule  in  the  mistress  of  the 
house,  they  all  continued  to  go,  and  they  all  liked  it.  Some 
of  them,  too,  remained  Lady  Holland's  lifelong  affectionate 
friends.  Samuel  Rogers,  who  was  a  frequent  visitor  at 
Holland  House  before  the  death  of  C.  J.  Fox,  remained  on 
terms  of  pleasant  intimacy  with  her  for  over  forty  years  : 
Moore's  diary  from  i8ig  to  1842  contains  numerous  references 
to  her  kindness  and  good  qualities  ;  and  from  1797  to  his 
death,  in  1845,  Sydney  Smith  was  always  her  grateful  and 
devoted  friend. 

Sydney  Smith  had  made  Lord  Holland's  acquaintance 
when  on  a  visit  to  his  brother  "  Bobus  "  at  college,  and  the 
connection  was  cemented  by  the  subsequent  marriage  of 
Bobus  with  Miss  Vernon,  one  of  Lord  Holland's  aunts. 
Sydney  was  first  introduced  to  Holland  House  in  1804, 
when,  according  to  his  own  account,  he  was  distressingly 
shy  !  And  when  the  Whigs  came  into  power  in  1806,  Lady 
Holland  never  rested  until  she  had  induced  the  Chancellor 
to  give  her  favourite  a  living.  Rogers  told  Dyce  ^  that  when 
Sydney  got  the  living  of  Foston-le-Clay,  in  Yorkshire,  he 
went  to  thank  Erskine  for  the  appointment.  "  Oh,"  said 
Erskine,  "  don't  thank  me,  Mr.  Smith.  I  gave  you  the 
living  because  Lady  Holland  insisted  on  my  doing  so  ;  and 
if  she  had  desired  me  to  give  it  to  the  devil,  he  must  have 
had  it."  Some  sixty  or  more  of  Sydney's  letters  to  Lady 
Holland,  covering  a  period  of  nearly  forty  years,  are  to  be 
found  in  his  correspondence,  as  edited  by  Mrs.  Austin  ;  and 
the  letters  are  not  only  extremely  amusing,  but  also,  from 
first  to  last,  indicative  of  his  warm  regard.  One  of  these, 
written  about  the  end  of  1807,  may  be  prefaced  by  something 
>  "  Records,"  Vol.  I.,  pp.  98,  99.  2  ..  Table  Talk,"  p.  86. 

186 


ELIZABETH,    LADY   HOLLAND 

which  Cyrus  Redding  records  in  his  "  Recollections."  ^ 
Redding  represents  Lady  Holland  as  not  only  cold  and 
haughty,  but  as  offensive  towards  those  she  disliked,  and 
very  apt  to  construe  into  a  personal  affront  any  remark  of  the 
slightest  nature  which  did  not  chime  in  with  her  views.  By 
way  of  example,  he  says  that  the  poet  Campbell,  for  a  mere 
jest  about  Lady  Holland's  phraseology  when  she  spoke  of 
"  taking  a  drive,"  was  treated  with  such  hauteur  that  he 
would  never  afterwards  visit  her  house  to  expose  himself  to 
a  repetition  of  it.  Some  time  after  this,  however,  Campbell 
was  reported  to  be  in  financial  difficulties  ;  and,  whatever 
animosity  he  may  have  cherished,  it  is  quite  evident  from 
Sydney  Smith's  correspondence  that  she  had  none  against 
him.     Sydney  writes  : — 

"  I  told  the  little  poet,  after  the  proper  softenings  of  wine,  dinner, 
flattery,  repeating  his  verses,  etc.,  etc.,  that  a  friend  of  mine  wished  to 
lend  him  some  money,  and  I  begged  him  to  take  it."^ 

He  goes  on  to  relate  that  Campbell  was  not  affronted,  but, 
while  expressing  great  gratitude  to  his  unknown  benefactor, 
declined  the  money  on  the  ground  that  his  affairs  were  not 
at  the  moment  in  so  critical  a  state  as  to  necessitate 
borrowing.  Sydney  therefore  cancelled  the  draft  which  Lady 
Holland  had  sent,  and  he  concludes  his  letter  by  telling  her 
she  is  a  very  good  lady,  and  that  for  what  she  had  done,  or 
rather  proposed  to  do,  he  gave  her  his  hearty  benediction. 
In  the  following  year  he  thus  refers  to  his  own  relations  to 
both  her  and  Lord  Holland  : — 

"You  may  choose  to  make  me  a  bishop,  and  if  you  do,  I  think  I 
shall  never  do  you  discredit ;  for  I  believe  it  is  out  of  the  power  of  lawn 
and  velvet,  and  the  crisp  hair  of  dead  men  fashioned  into  a  wig,  to 
make  me  a  dishonest  man  ;  but  if  you  do  not,  I  am  perfectly  content, 
and  shall  be  ever  grateful  to  the  last  hour  of  my  life  to  you  and  to 
Lord  Holland."  3 

1  "Fifty  Years'  Recollections,"  Vol.  III.,  pp.  176—178. 

2  "  Memoir  and  Letters  of  the  Rev.  Sydney  Smith,"  2  Vols.  (1855),  Vol.  IL, 

P-  31- 
8  Ibid.,  Vol.  IL,  p.  38. 

187 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

Sydney  used  to  send  to  Holland  House  what  he  called  his 
annual  tribute,  in  the  shape  of  a  cheese  ;  and  presents  of 
various  kinds  reached  him  from  Lady  Holland,  which  drew 
forth  characteristic  acknowledgments,  that  were  carefully 
preserved  : — 

"  Many  thanks  for  two  fine  Galicia  hams  ;  but  as  for  boiling  them  in 
wine,  I  am  not  as  yet  high  enough  in  the  Church  for  that ;  so  they  must 
do  the  best  they  can  in  water.  .  .  .  Horner  is  ill.  He  was  desired  to 
read  amusing  books.  Upon  searching  his  library,  it  appeared  he  had 
no  amusing  books — the  nearest  of  any  work  of  that  description  being 
'  The  Indian  Trader's  Complete  Guide.'  "* 

Grateful  and  affectionate  as  he  was,  however,  Sydney  would 
sometimes  feel  called  upon  to  speak  his  mind  very  plainly  to 
Lady  Holland.  Once  it  was  reported  to  him  that  she  was 
in  the  habit  of  laughing  at  him  for  being  happy  in  the 
country ;  whereupon  he  at  once  sent  her  a  letter  of  rebuke, 
telling  her  that,  though  not  leading  precisely  the  life  he 
would  choose,  he  considered  it  more  manly  to  reconcile 
himself  to  it  than  to  feign  himself  above  it  and  send  up 
complaints  by  the  post  about  being  thrown  away,  "and  such 
like  trash. "^  He  frequently  expostulated  with  her  on  her 
restlessness,  as,  in  1815,  "  Pray  do  settle  in  England  and 
remain  quiet.  ...  I  have  heard  500  travelled  people  assert 
that  there  is  no  such  agreeable  house  in  Europe  as  Holland 
House  ;  why  should  you  be  the  last  person  to  be  convinced 
of  this,  and  the  first  to  make  it  true  ?  "  ^  Often,  of  course, 
he  was  merely  excruciatingly  funny,  as  in  a  letter,  written 
during  the  Reform  Bill  agitation,  wherein  he  tells  her : — 

"  I  met  Lord  John  at  Exeter.  The  people  along  the  road  were  very 
much  disappointed  by  his  smallncss.  I  told  them  he  was  much  larger 
before  the  Bill  was  thrown  out,  but  was  reduced  by  excessive  anxiety 
about  the  people.    This  brought  tears  into  their  eyes."^ 

•  "  Memoir  and  Letters  of  the  Rev.  Sydney  Smith,"  2  Vols.  (1855),  Vol.  II., 
p.  48. 

2  Ibid.,  Vol.  II.,  pp.  56.  57. 
n  Ibid.,  Vol.  II.,  p.  124. 

♦  Ibid..  Vol.  II.,  p.  321. 

188 


ELIZABETH,    LADY    HOLLAND 

Moore  notes  in  his  diary  on  September  14th,  1842,  that 
after  dinner  Lady  Holland  read  to  the  company  a  letter 
from  Sydney  Smith,  "  quite  as  piquant  as  any  of  her  dishes." 
The  letter,  as  given  in  his  correspondence,  runs  as  follows, 
and  perhaps  the  discerning  reader  may  be  able  to  fill  in  the 
three  names  which  Mrs.  Austin  has  struck  out : — 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  Allen  is  not  well ;  but  the  reduction  of  his  legs 
is  a  pure  and  unmixed  good;  they  are  enormous, — they  are  clerical  1 
He  has  the  creed  of  a  philosopher  and  the  legs  of  a  clergyman ;  I  never 
saw  such  legs — at  least,  belonging  to  a  layman.  .  .  . 

"It  is  a  bore,  I  admit,  to  be  past  seventy,  for  you  are  left  for 
execution,  and  we  are  daily  expecting  the  death-warrant;  but,  as  you 
say,  it  is  not  anything  very  capital  we  quit.  We  are,  at  the  close  of  life, 
only  hurried  away  from  stomach-aches,  pains  in  the  joints,  from  sleep- 
less nights  and  unamusing  days,  from  weakness,  ugliness,  and  nervous 
tremors ;  but  we  shall  all  meet  again  in  another  planet,  cured  of  all  our 

defects. will  be  less  irritable, more  silent  ;  will  assent; 

Jeffrey  will  speak  slower ;  Bobus  will  be  just  as  he  is  ;  I  shall  be  more 
respectful  to  the  upper  clergy ;  but  I  shall  have  as  lively  a  sense  as 
I  now  have  of  all  your  kindness  and  affection  for  me."* 

It  may  go  without  the  saying  that  Sydney  Smith  poked  fun 
at  her,  as  he  did  at  everybody  else.  Moore  relates  how,  when 
Lady  Holland  proposed  to  stay  the  ravages  of  the  bookworm 
in  the  library  by  the  use  of  some  mercurial  preparation, 
Sydney  declared  it  to  be  Humphry  Davy's  opinion  that  the 
air  would  become  charged  with  mercury,  and  the  whole 
family  salivated.  "  I  shall  see  Allen,"  said  he,  "  some  day 
with  his  tongue  hanging  out,  speechless,  and  shall  take  the 
opportunity  to  stick  a  few  principles  into  him."  Abraham 
Hayward  tells  how  one  day  Sydney  hurried  to  her  Ladyship 
with  the  model  of  a  fire  escape,  the  efficacy  of  which  he 
guaranteed,  provided  the  escaping  person  were  first  reduced 
to  a  state  of  nudity.  He  had  a  clerical  friend,  he  told  her, 
who  was  haunted,  like  herself,  by  the  fear  of  fire,  and  who 
had  provided  himself  with  this  admirable  invention.  One 
night  he  was  awakened  by  a  violent  knocking  and  ringing  at 

»  "  Memoir  and  Letters  of  the  Rev.  Sydney  Smith,"  2  Vols.  (1855),  Vol.  II., 
PP-  473.  474- 

189 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

his  door,  and,  supposing  the  house  to  be  on  fire,  he  threw 
off  his  nightshirt  and  instantly  let  himself  down  by  the 
apparatus,  only  to  find,  however,  when  it  set  him  down  on  the 
doorstep,  that  his  wife  and  daughters,  who  had  been  kept 
late  at  a  ball,  were  knocking  and  ringing  to  be  let  in.^  And 
there  are  more  stories  of  a  similar  character,  most  of  them, 
however,  only  exhibiting  Sydney's  superabundant  humour 
and  high  spirits,  which,  as  Princess  Liechtenstein  tells  us, 
kept  even  the  servants  of  Holland  House  in  fits  of  laughter. 

Lady  Holland  was  ambitious  that  her  husband  should  take 
a  prominent  part  in  the  government  of  his  country.  Whether 
this  were  entirely  disinterested,  or  whether  it  were  only 
another  phase  of  that  love  of  power  which,  as  we  have  seen, 
the  eminent  physician,  Sir  Henry  Holland,  diagnosed  as  her 
most  prominent  characteristic,  may  be  a  matter  for  difference 
of  opinion.  Her  house  was  naturally  the  social  rallying- 
point  for  the  chiefs  of  the  Whig  party.  As  early  as  1802  we 
find  it  noted  in  the  journal  of  Lord  Hobart  (afterwards  Lord 
Auckland)  that  she  was  "  deep  in  political  intrigue  and 
means  for  the  preservation  of  peace  to  make  it  necessary 
that  Fox  should  be  in  power."  On  the  collapse  of  Lord 
Goderich's  coalition  Ministry,  in  1828,  she  asked  Lord  John 
Russell,  as  Croker  reports,  why  Lord  Holland  should  not  be 
Secretary  for  Foreign  Affairs  ;  and  Lord  John  is  said  to 
have  quietly  replied,  "  Why,  they  say,  ma'am,  that  you  open 
all  Lord  Holland's  letters,  and  the  Foreign  Ministers  might 
not  like  that.''  ^  About  the  same  time  Jekyll  wrote  to  his 
sister-in  law : — 

"  Lady  Hollaod  is  the  only  dissatisfied  Minister  out  of  office.  She 
counted  upon  sailing  down  daily  with  her  long-tailed  blacks  and 
ancient,  crane-necked  chariot  to  sit  with  Holland  at  the  Secretary's 
office,  to  administer  the  affairs  of  Europe,  and  make  Sydney  Smith 
a  bishop.  As  for  him  "  (Lord  H.),  "  he  never  cared  twopence  about  the 
whole  job."* 

•  "  Sketches  of  Eminent  Statesmen,"  Vol.  II.,  p.  214. 
2  "  Croker  Papers,"  Vol.  I.,  p.  400. 
=•  Jekyll,  p.  lyb. 

190 


ELIZABETH,    LADY    HOLLAND 

Lord  Holland,  as  is  well  known,  was  always  both  a 
prominent  and  a  consistent  member  of  the  Whig  party.  He 
held  office  as  Lord  Privy  Seal  in  the  "  Cabinet  of  all  the 
Talents"  in  1806.  At  the  time  of  the  Reform  Bill  he  was 
Chancellor  of  the  Duchy  of  Lancaster ;  and  whether  it  be 
true  or  not  (as  Greville  says  it  was  in  July,  1834)  that  "  the 
Hollands  think  of  nothing"  on  earth  but  how  they  may  best 
keep  the  Duchy,"  it  is  certainly  the  fact  that  he  did  keep  it, 
with  but  one  short  interval,  until  his  death  in  1840.  Jekyll's 
remarks,  however,  must  always  be  taken  cum  grano  salts  and 
as  a  mixture  of  more  or  less  humorous  and  malicious 
exaggeration.     In  1833  he  writes  again  : — 

"  Lord  Palmerston  is  to  be  congratulated,  for  he  has  got  Lady 
Holland  for  his  neighbour  in  Stanhope  Street.  With  her  usual  spirit 
of  domination  and  restlessness,  she  has  seized  and  possessed  herself  of 
her  poor,  quiet  son-in-law's  mansion  for  Cabinet  dinners ;  and  most 
likely  will  attempt  to  enthrone  herself  at  the  head  of  the  table,  and 
suggest  secret  measures  for  the  conduct  of  Ministers  in  Spain,  Portugal, 
and  Belgium."^ 

Undoubtedly  Lady  Holland,  as  a  hostess,  was  of  immense 
service  to  the  Whig  party ;  and  many  besides  Gifford  must 
have  wished  that  they  could  only  "  get  up  a  Holland  House 
on  the  Tory  side  of  the  question."  But  Greville  and  others 
bear  most  emphatic  testimony  to  the  fact  that,  while  her 
society  was  naturally  and  inevitably  of  a  particular  political 
colour,  Lady  Holland  never  encouraged  any  fierce  philippics, 
to  say  nothing  of  ribaldry,  against  political  opponents,  and 
made  it  one  of  her  chief  objects  to  establish  "  such  a  tone  of 
moderation  and  general  toleration  that  no  person  of  any 
party,  opinion,  profession,  or  persuasion  might  feel  any 
difficulty  in  coming  to  her  house,  and  she  took  care  that  no 
one  who  did  come  should  ever  have  reason  to  complain  of 
being  offended  or  annoyed,  still  less  shocked  or  insulted, 
under  her  roof." 

Several   of   Lady    Holland's   guests  have   recorded   their 

1  Jekyll,  p.  230. 

191 


NOBLE   DAMES   AND    NOTABLE   MEN 

impressions  of  the  society  at  Holland  House.    The  Ameri- 
can George  Ticknor  when  he  first  came  to  London,  in  i8ig, 
found  there,  and  in  the  Hollands'  temporary  quarters  in  St. 
James's  Square,  "  a  literary  society  not  to  be  equalled  in 
Europe."     His  brief  but  bright  little  sketches  of  some  of  the 
notabilities  he  met  are  all  too  few.     Sir  James  Mackintosh 
is  described  as  precise  and  rather  "  made  up  "  in  manners 
and  conversation ;   Sydney  Smith  as  a  man  of  about  fifty, 
corpulent  though  not  gross,  and  liable  to  be  mistaken  at  first 
sight  for  merely  a  gay,  easy  gentleman,  careless  of  everything 
but  the  pleasures  of  conversation  and  society.     But  further 
acquaintance  discloses  a  fund  of  good  sense,  sound  judgment, 
and  accurate  reasoning,  a  humour  giving  such  grace  to  his 
argument  that  it  comes  with  the  charm  of  wit,  and  a  wit  so 
appropriate  that  its  sallies  are  often  logic  in  masquerade. 
Brougham  looks  about  thirty-eight,  is  tall,  thin,  and  rather 
awkward,    with  plain  and  not  very  expressive  countenance 
and  inferior  manners.    At  first,  or  on  common  topics,  nobody 
could  seem  more  commonplace;  but  when  any  subject  excited 
him  the  listener  became  instantly  aware  that  he  was  con- 
versing with  no  ordinary  man.^     During  his  second  visit  to 
England,   fifteen   or   more   years   later,  Ticknor   frequently 
dined  at  Holland  House,  when,  he  says,  "  Lady  Holland,  I 
really  think,  made  an  effort  to  be  agreeable,  and  she  certainly 
has  power  to  be  so  when  she  chooses ;  but  I  think  I  could 
never  like  her."  ^     It  was  a  pleasure  to  him,  however,  to  dine 
in  that  grand  old  Gilt  Room,  with  its  two  ancient,  deep  fire- 
places, and  to  hear  Lord  Holland's  genial  talk.     Two  things 
seem  to  have  struck  him  particularly :  firstly,  the  freedom 
with  which  the  company,  including  Ministers,  criticised  the 
King ;  and  secondly,  the  simple  manner  in  which  the  Prime 
Minister  behaved  and  was  treated.     The  company  on  one 
occasion  included  Earl  Grey,  Lord  and  Lady  Cowper,  Lord 
Minto,  the   Lord  Advocate  Murray,  and   Lord   Melbourne. 

'  Ticknor,  Vol.  I.,  pp.  218 — 220. 
«  Ibid..  Vol.  II.,  p.  144. 

192 


ELIZABETH,    LADY   HOLLAND 

He  thought  it  singular  that  the  dinner  was  not  delayed  a 
moment  for  Lord  Melbourne,  although  his  sister,  Lady 
Cowper,  had  assured  Lady  Holland  that  he  would  certainly 
come.  "  Even,  at  last,  when  he  came  in,  so  little  notice  was 
taken  of  him  that,  though  he  sat  opposite  to  me — the  party 
was  very  small,  and  at  a  round  table — I  did  not  perceive  his 
arrival,  or  suspect  who  he  was  until  I  was  introduced  to  him 
some  moments  afterwards."  He  also  adds  that,  if  he  had  not 
known  Melbourne  to  be  the  Prime  Minister,  he  would  never 
have  suspected  that  any  burden  of  state  lay  on  his  shoulders.^ 
Readers  of  Sir  George  Trevelyan's  "Life  of  Macaulay" 
will  remember  a  number  of  references  to  the  house,  the 
hostess,  and  the  guests  in  the  historian's  letters  to  his 
sister.  His  first  meeting  with  Lady  Holland  was  at  a  crush 
at  Lansdowne  House  in  May,  1831,  when,  as  he  was  shaking 
hands  with  Sir  James  Macdonald,  he  heard  a  command 
behind  them,  "  Sir  James,  introduce  me  to  Mr.  Macaulay." 

"  We  turned  [he  writes],  and  there  sate  a  large,  bold-looking 
woman,  with  the  remains  of  a  fine  person,  and  the  air  of  Queen 
Elizabeth.  *  Macaulay,'  said  Sir  James,  '  let  me  present  you  to  Lady 
Holland.'  Then  was  her  Ladyship  gracious  beyond  description,  and 
asked  me  to  dine  and  take  a  bed  at  Holland  House  next  Tuesday."^ 

During  the  following  three  years,  until  his  departure  for 
India,  Macaulay  was  one  of  the  most  conspicuous  figures 
in  Lady  Holland's  distinguished  circle.  On  one  occasion  he 
relates  having  a  long  talk  with  her  Ladyship  in  the  drawing- 
room  about  the  antiquities  of  the  house  and  about  the 
purities  of  the  English  language,  wherein,  he  says,  she  con- 
sidered herself  a  critic.  "  Constituency "  she  thought  an 
odious  word,  and  she  objected  to  "  talented,"  "  influential," 
and  "  gentlemanly,"  the  last-named  being  a  word  from  the 
use  of  which  she  could  never  break  Sheridan,  although  he 
allowed  it  to  be  wrong.  Macaulay  treated  her  to  a  disserta- 
tion on  the  history  of  the  word  "talents,"  which  he  held  to 

1  Ticknor,  Vol.  I„  pp.  338,  339.  2  Macaulay,  "  Life,"  p.  148, 

N.D.  193  O 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

have  been  first  used  as  a  metaphor  taken  from  the  parable  in 
the  New  Testament,  and  to  have  gradually  passed  from  the 
vocabulary  of  divinity  into  common  use.  She  seemed  sur- 
prised at  this  theory,  never  having,  so  far  as  he  could  judge, 
even  heard  of  the  parable  of  the  talents.  And  he  adds,  "  I 
did  not  tell  her,  though  I  might  have  done  so,  that  a  person 
who  professes  to  be  a  critic  of  the  delicacies  of  the  English 
language  ought  to  have  the  Bible  at  his  fingers'  ends."^ 
However,  he  admitted  her  to  be  a  woman  of  considerable 
talent  and  great  literary  acquirements ;  and  from  the  verdict 
of  such  a  judge  there  could  be  no  appeal.  On  another  occa- 
sion, when  inspecting  the  portraits  in  the  library,  he  came 
upon  one  of  Lady  Holland  painted  some  thirty  years  pre- 
viously, and  declared  he  could  have  cried  to  see  the  change, 
for  she  must  have  been  a  most  beautiful  woman.  When  it 
was  announced,  in  January,  1834,  that  Macaulay  had  been 
appointed  a  member  of  the  Supreme  Council  of  India,  he 
had  a  most  extraordinary  scene  with  her  Ladyship. 

"  If  she  had  been  as  young  and  handsome  as  she  was  thirty  years 
ago,  she  would  have  turned  my  head.  She  was  quite  hysterical  about 
my  going  ;  paid  me  such  compliments  as  I  cannot  repeat ;  cried,  raved, 
called  me  '  Dear,  dear  Macaulay.  You  are  sacrificed  to  your  family. 
I  see  it  all.  You  are  too  good  for  them.  They  are  always  making 
a  tool  of  you :  last  session  about  the  slaves,  and  now  sending  you  to 
India."'2 

She  not  only  talked  like  this  to  Macaulay  himself,  it 
appears,  but  stormed  at  the  Ministers  for  letting  him  go, 
and  was  so  violent  one  day  at  dinner  that  Lord  Holland 
could  not  command  himself  and  broke  out,  "  Don't  talk 
such  nonsense,  my  lady.  What  the  devil !  Can  we  tell  a 
gentleman  who  has  a  claim  upon  us  that  he  must  lose  his 
only  chance  of  getting  an  independency  in  order  that  he 
may  come  to  talk  to  you  in  an  evening  P"^ 

Perhaps  the  best  general  notion  of  the  brilliant  talk  that 

•  Macaulay,  "  Life,"  pp.  150,  151.  2  j^id,,  p.  255. 

•''  Ibid.,  p.  256. 

194 


ELIZABETH,   LADY   HOLLAND 

was  usually  to  be  heard  at  Holland  House  is  to  be  obtained 
from  some  of  the  entries  in  Greville's  diary,  although 
the  diarist  admits  that  it  sometimes  made  him  feel  uncom- 
fortable, because  painfully  conscious  of  his  own  deficiencies. 
In  September,  1834,  he  jotted  down  the  heads  of  the  literary 
talk  at  dinner  one  day,  when  Spring  Rice  and  his  son, 
Melbourne,  Palmerston,  Allen,  and  Bobus  Smith  were  of 
the  party  : — 

"  They  talked  of  Taylor's  new  poem, '  Philip  van  Artevelde. '  Melbourne 
had  read  and  admired  it.  The  Preface,  he  said,  was  affected  and  foolish  ; 
the  poem  itself  very  superior  to  anything  in  Milman.  There  was  one 
fine  idea  in  '  The  Fall  of  Jerusalem ' — that  of  Titus,  who  felt  himself  pro- 
pelled by  an  irresistible  impulse,  like  that  of  the  Greek  dramatists, 
whose  fate  is  the  great  agent  always  pervading  their  dramas.  They 
held  Wordsworth  cheap,  except  Spring  Rice,  who  was  enthusiastic 
about  him.  Holland  thought  Crabbe  the  greatest  genius  of  modern 
poets.  Melbourne  said  he  degraded  every  subject.  None  of  them  had 
known  Coleridge ;  his  lectures  were  very  tiresome,  but  he  is  a  poet  of 
great  merit." 

The  talk  then  diverged  to  other  matters.  Melbourne  told 
a  story  about  Irving  calling  on  him  to  remonstrate  against 
the  prohibition  of  preaching  in  the  streets.  Lord  Holland 
related  some  anecdotes  of  Lord  North  and  the  Duke  of 
Richmond,  etc.  After  dinner  literature  came  up  again,  and 
they  discussed  the  work  of  women  authors,  finding  few  chefs- 
d'oeuvres  and  admitting  only  Madame  de  Sevigne,  Madame 
de  Stael,  and  Sappho  into  the  first  class,  though  Lady 
Holland  was  for  the  exclusion  of  Madame  de  Stael.  Mrs. 
Somerville  was  admitted  to  be  great  in  the  exact  sciences, 
and  Miss  Austen's  novels,  if  not  in  the  first  rank,  were  allowed 
to  be  excellent.  By-and-by  the  talk  got  round  to  German 
literature,  and  Melbourne  told  the  following  story,  which  may 
remind  the  reader  of  a  somewhat  similar  one  which  has  since 
obtained  currency  in  connection  with  Robert  Browning : — 

"  Klopstock  had  a  sect  of  admirers  in  Germany.  Some  young  students 
made  a  pilgrimage  from  Gottingen  to  Hamburg,  where  Klopstock  lived 
in  his  old  age,  to  ask  him  the  meaning  of  a  passage  in  one  of  his  works 

195  ,02 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

which  they  could  not  understand.  He  looked  at  it,  and  then  said  he 
could  not  recollect  what  it  was  that  he  meant  when  he  wrote  it,  but 
that  he  knew  it  was  the  finest  thing  he  ever  wrote,  and  they  could  not 
do  better  than  devote  their  lives  to  the  discovery  of  its  meaning."  i 

Macaulay,  in  his  essa}'  on  Lord  Holland,  has  a  fine  passage 
on  "  that  venerable  chamber,  in  which  all  the  antique  gravity 
of  a  college  library  was  so  singularly  blended  with  all  that 
female  grace  and  wit  could  devise  to  embellish  a  drawing- 
room,"  and  draws  attention  to  the  peculiar  character  which 
belonged  to  that  circle,  in  which  every  talent  and  accom- 
plishment, every  art  and  science,  had  its  place,  where  one 
might  hear  "  the  last  debate  discussed  in  one  corner,  and  the 
last  comedy  of  Scribe  in  another,  while  Wilkie  gazed  with 
modest  admiration  on  Sir  Joshua's  Baretti,  while  Mackintosh 
turned  over  Thomas  Aquinas  to  verify  a  quotation,  while 
Talleyrand  related  his  conversations  with  Barras  at  the 
Luxembourg  or  his  ride  with  Larmes  over  the  field  of 
Austerlitz."  Macaulay  and  everybody  else,  however,  thought 
that  when  Lord  Holland  died,  in  1840,  the  society  of  Holland 
House  would  be  broken  up  entirely,  making,  as  Greville  put 
it,  a  vacuum  in  society  which  nothing  could  supply,  and, 
in  literal  truth,  eclipsing  the  gaiety  of  nations.  But  they 
reckoned  without  their  hostess ;  and  Greville  was  forced  to 
admit,  when  he  dined  at  Holland  House  in  1841,  that 
everything  was  exactly  as  it  used  to  be.  He  wished  that  a 
shorthand  writer  could  have  been  there  to  take  down  the 
conversation,  for  it  was  not  only  curious  in  itself,  but  curiously 
illustrative,  he  thought,  of  the  character  of  the  performers. 
Macaulay  was  there ;  and,  in  the  absence  of  the  wished-for 
shorthand  writer,  Greville  ventures  on  a  condensed  report  of 
his  share  in  the  conversation  : — 

"  Before  dinner  some  mention  was  made  of  the  portraits  of  the 
Speakers  in  the  Speaker's  house,  and  I  asked  how  far  they  went  back. 
Macaulay  said  he  was  not  sure,  but  certainly  as  far  as  Sir  Thomas 
More.     '  Sir  Thomas  More  ?  '  said  Lady  Holland.     '  I  did  not  know  he 

»  Greville,  Part  I.,  Vol.  III.,  pp.  126—130. 

ig6 


ELIZABETH,   LADY   HOLLAND 

had  been  Speaker.'  '  Oh,  yes,'  said  Macaulay  ;  '  don't  you  remember 
when  Cardinal  Wolsey  came  down  to  the  House  of  Commons  and  More 
was  in  the  chair  ? '  And  then  he  told  the  whole  of  that  well-known 
transaction,  and  all  More  had  said.  At  dinner,  amongst  a  variety  of 
persons  and  subjects,  principally  ecclesiastical — for  Melbourne  loves  all 
sorts  of  theological  talk — we  got  upon  India  and  Indian  men  of  emi- 
nence, proceeding  from  Gleig's  '  Life  of  Warren  Hastings,'  which 
Macaulay  said  was  the  worst  book  that  ever  was  written  ;  and  then 
the  name  of  Sir  Thomas  Munro  came  uppermost.  Lady  Holland  did 
not  know  why  Sir  Thomas  Munro  was  so  distinguished,  when  Macaulay 
explained  all  that  he  had  ever  said,  done,  written,  or  thought,  and 
indicated  his  claim  to  the  title  of  a  great  man,  till  Lady  Holland  got 
bored  with  Sir  Thomas,  told  Macaulay  she  had  had  enough  of  him,  and 
would  have  no  more.  This  would  have  dashed  and  silenced  an  ordinary 
talker,  but  to  Macaulay  it  was  no  more  than  replacing  a  book  on  its 
shelf,  and  he  was  as  ready  as  ever  to  open  on  any  other  topic.  It 
would  be  impossible  to  follow  and  describe  the  various  mazes  of  con- 
versation, all  of  which  he  threaded  with  an  ease  that  was  always 
astonishing  and  instructive,  and  generally  interesting  and  amusing. 
When  we  went  upstairs  we  got  upon  the  Fathers  of  the  Church.  Allen 
asked  Macaulay  if  he  had  read  much  of  the  Fathers.  He  said,  '  Not 
a  great  deal.'  He  had  read  Chrysostora  when  he  was  in  India ;  that 
is,  he  had  turned  over  the  leaves,  and  for  a  few  months  had  read  him 
for  two  or  three  hours  every  morning  before  breakfast.  '  I  remember 
a  sermon,'  he  said,  '  of  Chrysostom's  in  praise  of  the  Bishop  of 
Antioch  ' ;  and  then  he  proceeded  to  give  us  the  substance  of  this 
sermon,  till  Lady  Holland  got  tired  of  the  Fathers,  again  put  her 
extinguisher  on  Chrysostom  as  she  had  done  on  Munro  ;  and,  with  a 
sort  of  derision,  and  as  if  to  have  the  pleasure  of  puzzling  Macaulay, 
she  turned  to  him  and  said,  '  Pray,  Macaulay,  what  was  the  origin  of 
a  doll?  When  were  dolls  first  mentioned  in  history  ? '  Macaulay  was, 
however,  just  as  much  up  to  the  dolls  as  he  was  to  the  Fathers,  and 
instantly  replied  that  the  Roman  children  had  their  dolls,  which  they 
offered  up  to  Venus  when  they  grew  older,  and  quoted  Persius  for 

Veneri  donates  a  virgine.  puppa, 

and  I  have  not  the  least  doubt,  if  he  had  been  allowed  to  proceed,  he 
would  have  told  us  who  was  the  chevenix  of  Rome,  and  the  name  of  the 
first  baby  that  ever  handled  a  doU."^ 

From  this  we  may  get  some  faint  impression  of  what  the 
society  and  the  conversation  at  Holland  House  continued  to 
be  after  Lord  Holland's  death.    And  even  after  Lady  Holland 

1  Greville,  Part  II.,  Vol.  I.,  pp.  367 — 370. 
197 


NOBLE    DAMES   AND   NOTABLE   MEN 

had  ceased  to  reign  there,  her  dinners  in  South  Street  were 
still  the  most  agreeable  in  London.  Sir  Henry  Holland^ 
remembered  one  in  October,  1845 — the  last  she  ever  gave — 
when  Thiers  and  Palmerston  met,  as  he  believed,  for  the 
first  time,  and  at  her  table  smothered  the  angry  feelings 
generated  by  prior  diplomacy.  And  to  the  last,  as  another 
observer  testifies,  "  with  a  voice  retaining  its  girlish  sweetness, 
she  welcomed  every  guest,  invited  or  casual,  with  the  old 
cordiality  and  queenly  grace." 

If  Sir  Henry  Holland,  who,  besides  being  a  physician,  was 
a  trained  psychologist,  found  Lady  Holland  difficult  to 
describe,  it  is  small  wonder  that  she  appears  to  us  a  highly 
complex  and  puzzling  character.  From  first  to  last  nobody 
ever  expected  Lady  Holland  to  do  anything  whatever  in 
the  conventional  way.  Rogers,  for  instance,  tells  us  of  the 
characteristically  odd  manner  in  which  she  announced  the 
death  of  Charles  James  Fox  to  those  relatives  and  intimate 
friends  who  were  sitting  in  a  room  near  his  bed-chamber, 
waiting  to  hear  that  he  had  breathed  his  last.  She  merely 
walked  through  the  room  with  her  apron  thrown  over  her 
head.^  Her  unconventional,  though  highly  successful,  regula- 
tion of  her  dinner-parties  has  already  been  abundantly 
exemplified.  It  has  also  been  shown  that  while  capricious 
and  tyrannical,  and  exhibiting  a  mischievous  delight  in  pro- 
voking, and  sometimes  even  insulting,  her  friends,  she  was 
yet,  at  the  same  time,  eager  to  do  the  same  persons  some 
kindness  or  valuable  service.  She  seems  to  have  cared  little 
for  her  own  children,  but  to  have  been  capable  of  strong  and 
lasting  friendship  for  certain  other  persons  whose  characters 
she  respected ;  and  she  invariably  showed  remarkable  kind- 
ness to  her  servants.  Although  notorious  as  a  Freethinker, 
she  never  tolerated  any  irreligious  talk  in  her  house.  She 
was  superstitious  to  a  degree  :  would  not  set  out  on  a 
journey   on    a    Friday   for   any   consideration ;   had  all   the 

1  Sir  Henry  Holland,  "  Recollections,"  p.  233. 

2  "TableTalk,"pp.  90,97. 

198 


ELIZABETH,    LADY   HOLLAND 

windows  closed  and  candles  lighted  whenever  there  was  a 
thunderstorm,  and  even,  so  it  is  said,  dressed  up  her  maid  in 
her  own  clothes  to  attract  the  thunderbolt  intended  for 
herself;  was  frightened  out  of  her  wits  when  the  cholera 
came  as  near  as  Glasgow  ;  and  habitually  worried  herself  lest 
her  unpleasant  dreams  should  come  true.  Yet  in  her  last 
illness  she  faced  death  with  a  philosophic  calmness  which 
astonished  all  who  knew  her.  And  she  managed  to  astonish 
her  friends,  in  another  way,  even  after  her  death,  for  when 
her  will  was  opened  it  was  found  ^  that  while  Babington, 
her  medical  attendant,  received  an  annuity,  while  Macaulay, 
Luttrell,  and  other  of  her  distinguished  friends  received 
legacies  of  varying  amounts,  while  all  her  servants  were  more 
or  less  amply  provided  for,  her  children  and  grandchildren 
were  all  but  ignored.  The  greater  part  of  her  landed  pro- 
perty, estimated  to  be  worth  about  ^1,500  a  year,  was  left  to 
Lord  John  Russell,  who  did  not  want  it,  for  life  ;  and  to  her 
daughter.  Lady  Lilford,  who  did  want  it,  she  left  nothing 
at  all.  Few  women,  even  with  the  aids  of  wealth,  beauty, 
and  a  title,  could  have  righted  themselves  with  society  as 
she  did  after  figuring  in  a  notorious  divorce  case.  Fewer 
still,  though  with  the  most  impeccable  record,  would  ever 
have  assumed  such  privileges  as  she  did,  or,  if  they  had, 
would  have  found  the  world  so  docile  in  submitting  to  their 
vagaries.  Selfish,  yet  generous ;  irreligious,  yet  super- 
stitious ;  whimsical,  provoking,  rude,  yet  obliging  and  con- 
siderate ;  an  unnatural  mother,  yet  a  staunch  friend  ; 
capricious  and  tyrannical,  yet  always  fascinating,  Lady 
Holland  was,  as  Greville  well  says,  "  a  very  strange 
woman,"  a  character  difficult  even  for  those  who  knew 
her  intimately  to  describe, — impossible,  perhaps,  for  those 
who  have  not  known  her  at  all. 

1  Gentleman's  Magazine,  1846,  Part  I.,  p.  91. 


199 


Al'.KAllAM    TrCKKK    Ol'-    Kl'VlCI  I  W  n  |<  1  1 1    CasTLK, 
From  an  engraving 


VI 


A    METAPHYSICAL   HUMORIST— ABRAHAM 

TUCKER 


VI 


A   METAPHYSICAL    HUMORIST— ABRAHAM 

TUCKER 

It  may  be  confidently  assumed  that  few  modern  readers 
have  so  much  as  heard  of  Abraham  Tucker  by  name,  to  say 
nothing  of  having  read  the  seven  stout  octavo  volumes, 
entitled  "The  Light  of  Nature  Pursued,"  to  the  composition 
of  which  he  devoted  nearly  twenty  years  of  his  life.  Little 
as  the  general  reader  of  to-day,  or,  for  that  matter,  of  his 
own  day,  may  have  heard  of  him,  however.  Tucker  exercised  a 
very  considerable  influence  over  the  minds  of  certain  thinkers 
and  writers,  who  had  much  to  do  with  shaping  the  current 
philosophical  and  theological  thought  of  their  time.  To 
name  two  or  three  only,  Paley,  in  the  Preface  to  his  "  Moral 
and  Political  Philosophy,"  candidly  owned  how  much  he  was 
indebted  to  '*  The  Light  of  Nature,"  and  said  that  he  had 
found  in  it  more  original  thinking  and  observation  on  the 
several  subjects  taken  in  hand  than  in  any  other  work,  "  not 
to  say  than  in  all  others  put  together  "  ;  Archbishop  Whately 
endeavoured  to  condense  some  of  his  "most  valuable" 
reasonings  into  the  notes  and  appendix  to  his  "  Bampton 
Lectures  "  ;  and  Sir  James  Mackintosh,  in  his  "Dissertation 
on  the  Progress  of  Ethical  Philosophy,"  not  only  praised  the 
work  for  its  careful  observation,  original  reflection,  and 
unrivalled  felicity  of  illustration,  but  instanced  the  neglect 
of  it  as  "  the  strongest  proof  of  the  disinclination  of  the 
English  people  ...  to  metaphysical  philosophy." 

It  may  be  admitted,  perhaps,  that  the  English  people  in 
this  instance  were  not  without  some  show  of  excuse,  for  the 

203 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

advertisement  of  a  philosophico-theological  treatise  in  seven 
large  volumes  is  certainly  calculated  to  appal  any  but  the 
most  voracious  of  readers.  Yet  it  is  impossible  to  turn  over 
the  pages  of  any  one  of  these  seven  volumes  without  having  the 
eye  arrested  by  some  pregnant  sentence,  or  felicitous  illustra- 
tion, or  quaint  conceit,  such  as  would  induce  any  discerning 
reader  to  cultivate  a  closer  acquaintance  with  their  author. 
And  the  reader  who  did  go  on  to  make  such  further  acquaint- 
ance, although  he  might  not  be  disposed  to  accept,  or  even 
to  attempt  to  master,  Tucker's  system  in  its  entirety,  would 
find  so  much  that  is  illuminating  on  various  problems  in 
psychology,  in  ethics,  and  in  theology,  as  well  as  so  much 
sound  common-sense  in  the  author's  practical  application  of 
his  ideas  to  life,  that  he  would  find  it  difficult  to  understand 
how  so  rich  a  mine  of  suggestive  thought  and  brilliant 
illustration  can  have  been  allowed  to  lie  so  long  in  obscurity. 
And  in  addition  to  this,  or  rather  interwoven  with  it,  as  in 
the  essays  of  Montaigne,  the  reader  would  likewise  find 
a  delineation  of  the  author's  own  character,  showing  him  to 
have  been  a  man  of  an  exceptionally  happy  temperament,  a 
shrewd  and  prudent  country  gentleman,  amiable  and 
benevolent  in  conduct,  serene  and  cheerful  in  temper,  no  less 
distinguished  from  the  squirearchy  of  his  day  by  an  uncon- 
querable aversion  both  to  fox-hunting  and  to  place-hunting, 
and  by  a  devotion  to  plain  living  and  high  thinking,  than  he 
is  from  most  of  the  philosophers  of  that  or  any  other  day 
by  the  possession  of  a  rich  vein  of  quaint  and  quiet  humour, 
which  runs  through  and  colours  all  his  speculations,  on  even 
the  highest  and  most  sacred  themes. 

All  that  is  known  of  the  circumstances  of  Tucker's 
uneventful  life  might  almost  be  contained  on  a  half-sheet  of 
notepaper,  and  we  may  learn  more  about  him  from  the 
personal  details  with  which  he  occasionally  illustrates  a 
philosophical  problem  than  from  the  meagre  biographical 
sketch  which  his  grandson  prefixed  to  the  1805  edition  of 
"  The    Light   of   Nature."      He  was   born   in    London   on 

204 


ABRAHAM   TUCKER 

September  2nd,  1705,  and  was  the  only  son  of  a  rich  Citv 
merchant  of  Somersetshire  extraction,  who  died  during  the 
boy's  infancy.  He  was  left  to  the  guardianship  of  Sir  Isaac 
Tillard,  a  maternal  uncle,  of  whom  Tucker  always  spoke 
with  affection  and  gratitude,  declaring  that  it  was  to  his 
uncle's  bright  example  that  he  owed  every  principle  of 
honour,  benevolence,  and  liberality  that  he  possessed.  We 
may  presume,  though  he  does  not  tell  us  so,  that  his 
characteristic  whimsicality  was  also  derived  from  the  same 
source.  At  any  rate,  it  is  significant  that  the  only  record  we 
have  of  this  uncle  is  that  whenever  young  Abraham  was 
called  upon  to  write  a  periodical  letter  to  some  of  his  other 
relations  Sir  Isaac  invariably  referred  him  to  the  Apostle 
Paul  as  the  best  model  for  epistolary  composition.  In  1721, 
after  leaving  a  school  at  Bishop's  Stortford,  Tucker  was 
entered  a  gentleman  commoner  at  Merton  College,  Oxford. 
While  there  he  devoted  most  of  his  time  to  mathematical 
and  metaphysical  studies,  but  he  also  made  himself  a  master 
of  the  French  and  Italian  languages,  and  likewise  acquired 
considerable  proficiency  in  music,  for  which  he  possessed 
much  natural  talent.  Three  years  later  he  was  entered  at 
the  Middle  Temple,  where  he  acquired  such  a  knowledge  of 
law  as  enabled  him  both  to  conduct  the  management  of  his 
own  affairs,  and  to  give  valuable  advice  to  his  friends  and 
neighbours  on  occasion,  though  he  was  never  called  to  the 
Bar.  In  1727  he  purchased  Betchworth  Castle,  near  Dorking, 
together  with  a  large  landed  estate,  and  immediately  set  about 
acquiring  the  information  necessary  for  its  proper  manage- 
ment. It  is  characteristic  of  him  that  he  committed  to 
paper  a  number  of  observations  on  this  subject  which  he  had 
selected  from  various  authors,  both  ancient  and  modern, 
together  with  remarks  which  he  had  made  himself  or  had 
collected  from  the  experience  of  his  neighbours  and  tenants. 
In  1736,  at  the  age  of  thirty-one,  he  married,  his  wife  being 
Dorothy,  daughter  of  Edward  Barker,  of  East  Betchworth, 
Cursitor  Baron  of  the  Exchequer.     By  this  lady,  with  whom 

205 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

he  lived  in  great  happiness  until  her  death,  eighteen  years 
afterwards,  he  had  two  daughters :  Dorothea  Maria,  who 
married  Sir  Henry  Paulet  St.  John,  Bart.,  of  Dogmersfield 
Park,  in  Hampshire,  and  Judith,  who  survived  her  father, 
inherited  his  estates,  and  died  unmarried  in  1795.  Both  his 
wife  and  his  daughters  are  occasionally  mentioned  in  "  The 
Light  of  Nature,"  always  by  way  of  illustrating  some 
philosophical  or  moral  point  under  discussion,  the  wife  being 
invariably  referred  to  as  "  Euridice,"  and  the  daughters  as 
"Serena"  and  "  Sparkle."  In  the  sixth  chapter  of  his  first 
volume,  for  example,  when  arguing  against  Locke  that  desire 
is  not  constantly  accompanied  with  uneasiness,  he  illustrates 
his  point  as  follows  : — 

"  I  may  say  with  Mr.  Dryden,  '  Old  as  I  am,  for  lady's  love  unfit,  the 
power  of  beauty  I  remember  yet.'  I  still  bear  in  mind  the  days  of  my 
courtship,  which  in  the  language  of  all  men  is  called  a  season  of  desire ; 
yet,  unless  I  strangely  forget  myself,  it  proved  to  me  a  season  of  satisfac- 
tion too.  But,  says  Mr.  Locke,  it  is  better  to  marry  than  to  burn,  where 
we  may  see  what  it  is  that  chiefly  drives  men  into  a  conjugal  life.  This, 
for  aught  I  know,  might  be  the  motive  with  some  men,  who,  being  of 
an  unsociable  and  undomestic  turn,  can  see  nothing  good  in  matrimony, 
but  submit  to  it  as  a  lesser  evil  delivering  them  from  a  greater.  And 
I  can  excuse  an  old  bachelor  for  entertaining  so  despicable  a  notion  of 
a  state  he  never  experienced  the  pleasures  of  himself.  Others,  it  may 
be,  make  their  engagements  too  hastily,  and  then  would  break  them  off 
again  through  the  shame  of  doing  a  foolish  thing,  till  the  smart  of  their 
burnings  becomes  intolerable,  and  drives  them  headlong  into  the  matri- 
monial net.  But  this,  thanks  to  my  stars,  was  not  my  case  :  my  own 
judgment,  upon  mature  deUberation,  and  the  approbation  of  my  friends, 
gave  leave  for  desire  to  take  its  course.  I  might  feel  some  scorchings 
in  my  youthful  days  when  it  would  have  been  imprudent  to  quench 
them,  and  while  the  object  of  desire  lay  at  an  undiscernible  distance : 
but  as  the  prospect  grew  nearer,  and  desire  had  licence  to  begin  its 
career,  it  had  no  more  the  fierceness  of  a  furnace,  but  became  a  gentle 
flame,  casting  forth  a  pleasing,  exhilarating  warmth.  Perhaps  I  might 
meet  with  some  Uttle  rubs  in  the  way,  that  gave  me  disturbance  :  if 
my  fair  one  spoke  a  civil  word  to  any  tall,  well-bred  young  fellow,  I 
might  entertain  some  idle  apprehensions  lest  he  should  supplant  me. 
When  I  took  a  hackney  coach  to  visit  her,  if  we  were  jammed  in  between 
the  carts,  perhaps  I  might  fret  and  fume,  and  utter  many  an  uneasy 
'  Pish ' ;  but  as  soon  as  we  got  through  the  stop,  though  desire  abated 

206 


ABRAHAM   TUCKER 

not,  every  shadow  of  uneasiness  fled  away.  As  near  as  I  can  remember, 
during  the  whole  scene,  desire,  closely  attended  by  satisfaction,  directed 
all  my  steps,  and  occupied  all  my  moments :  it  awaked  with  me  in  the 
morning,  and  was  the  last  idea  swept  away  by  sleep  :  it  invigorated  me 
in  business,  it  heightened  my  diversions,  it  gave  me  life  when  in  com- 
pany, and  entertained  me  with  dehghtful  reflections  when  alone.  Nor 
did  it  fail  of  accompanying  me  to  the  altar,  where,  laying  aside  its 
sprightliness  and  gaiety,  as  unsuitable  to  the  solemnity  of  the  occasion, 
it  became  more  calm  and  decent,  exhibiting  the  prospect  of  an  agreeable 
companion,  who  should  double  the  enjoyments  and  alleviate  the  troubles 
of  life ;  who  should  ease  me  from  the  burthen  of  household  cares,  and 
assist  me  in  bringing  up  a  rising  family ;  whose  conversation  should  be 
a  credit  to  me  abroad,  and  a  continual  feast  to  me  at  home.  Nor  yet 
did  possession  put  an  end  to  desire,  which  found  fresh  fuel  to  keep  it 
alive  from  time  to  time,  in  mutual  intercourses  of  kindness  and  hearty 
friendship, in  communication  of  interests, counsels  and  sentiments;  and 
would  often  feed  upon  the  merest  trifles.  How  often,  having  picked 
up  some  little  piece  of  news  abroad,  has  desire  quickened  my  pace  to 
prattle  over  it  at  home  !  how  often,  upon  hearing  of  something  curious 
in  the  shops,  have  I  gone  to  buy  it  with  more  pleasure  than  the  keenest 
sportsman  goes  after  his  game !  This  desire,  leading  delight  hand  in 
hand,  attended  us  for  many  years,  still  retaining  its  first  vigour,  although 
a  little  altered  in  shape  and  complexion ;  until  my  other  half  was  torn 
from  me.  Then,  indeed,  desire  left  me,  for  it  had  nothing  now  to  rest 
upon,  and  with  it  fled  joy,  delight,  content,  and  all  those  under  desires 
that  used  to  put  me  upon  the  common  actions  of  the  day ;  for  I  could 
like  nothing,  find  amusement  in  nothing,  and  cared  for  nothing :  and  in 
their  stead  succeeded  melancholy,  tastelessness,  and  perpetual  restless- 
ness. And  though  I  called  in  all  my  philosophy  to  rescue  me  from  this 
disconsolate  condition,  it  could  not  relieve  me  presently,  but  had  a  long 
struggle  before  it  could  get  the  better  of  nature." 

After  his  grief  at  his  wife's  death  had  somewhat  abated 
he  collected  together  all  the  letters  that  had  passed  between 
them  at  such  times  as  they  had  been  separated  from  each 
other,  transcribed  them  twice  over,  and  entitling  the  little 
book  thus  made  "  The  Picture  of  Artless  Love,"  gave  one 
copy  to  his  late  wife's  father,  and  the  other,  which  he  retained 
in  his  own  possession,  he  frequently  read  to  his  two  daughters. 
It  is  greatly  to  be  regretted  that  these  letters  appear  to  have 
been  either  lost  or  destroyed,  as  they  would  undoubtedly 
have  furnished  us  with  many  more  artless  revelations  of  our 

207 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

author's  own  singular  mind  and  character.  Tucker  then 
devoted  himself  to  the  education  of  his  two  girls,  being  him- 
self their  French  and  Italian  tutor,  and  also  instructing  them 
in  many  branches  of  "  science,"  above  all,  says  his  grand- 
son, being  careful  to  instil  into  their  minds  the  purest 
principles  of  morality,  benevolence,  and  religion.  It  was  one 
of  Tucker's  theories  that  the  spirit  of  emulation  and  the 
encouragement  of  vanity  were  too  much  in  use  in  the  educa- 
tion of  the  young.  He  held  that  it  was  possible  to  cultivate 
the  desire  for  excellence  without  the  desire  of  excelling,  a 
nice  distinction  which  everybody  cannot  be  brought  to  appre- 
ciate.    At  any  rate,  he  says  : — 

"  I  found  no  occasion  for  it  with  my  Serena  and  Sparkle :  on  the 
contrary  I  endeavoured  sedulously  to  pick  out  every  seed  as  fast  as 
sprinkled  by  any  old  woman  of  their  acquaintance :  and  I  have  the 
pleasure  to  find  they  have  made  as  good  proficiency  in  every  little 
accomplishment  I  could  give  them,  have  as  much  reputation  in  the 
world,  and  are  as  well  received,  even  among  persons  of  quality,  as  I 
could  wish." 

Tucker  had  no  turn  for  politics ;  and  although  frequently 
asked  to  stand  for  his  county,  he  always  unhesitatingly 
refused.  He  was  remarkable,  says  his  grandson,  for  absti- 
nence at  table,  and  passed  the  time  which  other  country 
squires  passed  over  their  bottle,  or  bottles,  in  walking  about 
his  estate  and  getting  all  the  information  he  could  from  the 
practical  experience  of  his  tenants.  When  in  London,  where 
he  spent  some  months  every  year,  he  usually  arranged  his 
walks  so  as  to  execute  his  own  commissions ;  but  if  there 
were  no  business  to  be  done,  he  would  not  forego  his  regular 
exercise,  but  took  a  walk  from  his  house  in  Great  James's 
Street  to  St.  Paul's  or  the  Bank,  just,  as  he  jocularly  observed, 
"  to  see  what  it  was  o'clock."  Both  in  town  and  country  he 
seems  to  have  led  a  very  retired  life,  and  it  was  apparently 
only  amongst  his  relations  and  a  few  old  college  chums  that 
he  exhibited  his  very  pretty  talent  for  the  socratic  method  of 
disputation.    His  amusements  were  of  the  simplest  kind,  and 

208 


ABRAHAM   TUCKER 

when  he  wanted  a  little  recreation  after  a  morning's  hard 
work  at  "  The  Light  of  Nature,"  he  declared  the  veriest  trifles 
suited  him  best,  such  as  "  lolling  out  at  a  window  like  Miss 
Gawkey,  to  see  the  wheelbarrow  trundle  or  the  butcher's 
dog  carry  the  tray."  At  one  time  he  used  to  play  back- 
gammon by  himself  on  Sundays,  one  hand  against  the  other, 
because  he  would  not  play  with  anybody  else ;  not  that  he 
thought  it  wrong  to  do  so,  but  because  people  might  tattle 
about  it,  and  his  example  be  used  to  authorise  things  more 
mischievous.  He  was  one  of  Bishop  Sherlock's  flock,  he 
tells  us,  whose  discourses  he  heard  with  much  pleasure,  and, 
he  hopes,  emolument.  His  religion  was  of  the  sober  and 
temperate  order,  and  he  was  greatly  offended  at  some  of  the 
extravagancies  of  the  Methodist  revival. 

"  Selfishness  and  insensibility  to  all  around  us  seem  to  be  made  the 
characteristics  of  high  perfection  in  Religion  :  our  fellow-creatures  of 
a  different  language,  or  make,  or  way  of  thinking,  or  sentiment  on  some 
speculative  point,  are  not  thought  worth  our  concern  ;  but  so  we  our- 
selves, together  with  a  few  of  the  same  orthodox  stamp,  be  safe,  the 
devil  take  all  the  world  beside,  as  deserving  victims  of  a  divine  wrath 
never  to  be  appeased.  For  my  part,  I  cannot  help  being  shocked  to 
hear  with  what  calmness  the  most  pious  people  will  talk  of  the  innumer- 
able multitudes  that  are  to  perish  in  everlasting  flames  ;  and  with  what 
glee  the  Methodists  regale  upon  the  thought  that  at  the  day  of  Judgment 
the  rich  and  mighty  of  this  world  shall  be  dragged  by  devils,  for  White 
field  and  his  mob  of  carmen  and  basket- women  to  trample  underfoot.' 

It  is  obvious  that  a  man  of  this  temperament,  circum- 
stanced as  he  was,  would  have  abundance  of  leisure,  which 
he  would  be  desirous  of  turning  to  some  intellectual  account ; 
and  it  occurred  to  Tucker  that,  as  his  thoughts  had  always 
tended  "  towards  searching  into  the  foundations  and  measures 
of  right  and  wrong,"  he  might  as  well  put  into  black  and 
white,  whether  for  publication  or  not,  the  scheme  of  a  recon- 
ciliation between  religion  and  reason  which  had  gradually 
been  taking  shape  in  his  mind.  Accordingly  in  1756,  when 
just  over  fifty  years  of  age,  he  began  what  proved  to  be  a 
very  extensive  literary  undertaking,  for  it  afforded  continuous 

N.D.  209  P 


NOBLE   DAMES   AND    NOTABLE   MEN 

occupation  for  the  remaining  eighteen  years  of  his  Hfe. 
Whatever  may  have  been  the  motive  which  actuated  him  in 
so  doing,  it  cannot  have  been  Hterary  ambition,  for  when, 
after  seven  years'  labour,  he  pubhshed,  by  way  of  specimen, 
the  section  on  "  Free-will,"  and  then,  two  years  after  that, 
the  first  four  volumes  of  his  growing  treatise,  both  books 
were  issued  under  the  pseudonym  of  "  Edward  Search "  ; 
and  it  was  not  until  some  four  years  after  his  death,  when 
the  remaining  three  volumes  were  published  by  his  daughter, 
that  the  real  name  of  their  author  became  known.  Neither 
would  the  reception  of  the  first  four  volumes  have  encouraged 
a  man  actuated  by  literary  ambition  to  devote  nine  more 
years  to  the  completion  of  the  work,  for  they  were  reviled 
by  the  reviewers,  neglected  by  the  public,  and  disparaged  by 
his  own  friends.  The  probability  seems  to  be  that  he  wrote 
primarily  to  please  himself,  finding  pleasure  in  putting  into 
shape  and  order  his  own  abounding  thoughts  and  fancies, 
and  thinking — as,  in  fact,  he  acknowledges  to  have  been  the 
case — that  by  so  doing  he  would  clear  up  some  dubious  points 
in  his  own  mind.  In  his  introduction,  he  incidentally  refers 
to  "  my  reader,  if  I  have  one  " ;  but  as  the  work  proceeded 
he  seems  to  have  anticipated  an  audience  that  would  be  fit, 
though  few,  and  that  what  he  modestly  called  his  "  rude 
sketches  "  might  be  the  cause  of  some  completer  and  more 
finished  production  "which  may  obtain  general  currency 
and  do  signal  service  among  mankind  when  Search  and  his 
embryo  work  are  clean  forgotten."  To  a  certain  extent  this 
has  happened,  for,  as  Sir  Fitzjames  Stephen  remarked, 
Paley's  "  Moral  Philosophy  "  is  little  more  than  an  adapta- 
tion of  one  limb  of  Tucker's  book.  At  the  same  time,  and 
though  dealing  largely  with  metaphysics  and  psychology. 
Tucker  never  seems  to  have  had  the  technical  expert  in  his 
mind's  eye,  but  to  have  shaped  his  arguments  and  chosen 
his  illustrations  so  that  they  might  be  readily  comprehended 
by — the  expression  is  his  own — "  the  first  man  you  may  meet 
in  the  street." 

210 


ABRAHAM  TUCKER 

As  already  noted,  Tucker  had  resolutely  cut  himself  off 
from  political  society.  It  is  even  more  remarkable  that  there 
is  no  trace  of  his  ever  having  come  into  personal  contact 
w^ithany  of  the  eminent  authors  who  were  his  contemporaries, 
hardly  even  a  trace  of  familiarity  with  any  of  their  writings. 
The  principal  works  of  Pope,  Johnson,  Goldsmith,  Swift, 
Defoe,  Gray,  Richardson,  Fielding,  and  Smollett  all  appeared 
during  his  lifetime ;  but  beyond  the  occasional  quotation  of 
a  line  from  Pope's  "  Essay  on  Man  "  there  is  throughout  the 
whole  of  these  seven  discursive  volumes  scarcely  the  remotest 
reference  to  contemporary  general  literature.  Neither  is 
there — and  this  is  more  curious  still — any  reference  to 
important  contemporary  speculative  works  bearing  on  the 
subject  of  his  own  inquiries.  Butler's  "Analogy,"  Hume's 
"  Treatise,"  Reid's  "Inquiry,"  and  Adam  Smith's  "Moral 
Sentiments "  all  appeared  between  the  time  of  Tucker's 
leaving  Oxford  and  the  publication  of  the  first  four  volumes 
of  "  The  Light  of  Nature  " ;  but  not  one  of  these  works  is 
even  casually  mentioned  ;  and,  except  for  some  strictures  on 
Hartley  and  on  Bishop  Berkeley,  it  might  be  assumed  that 
Tucker  had  as  deliberately  eschewed  the  philosophical  and 
the  pohte  literature  of  his  time  as  he  had  its  politics.  In  his 
concluding  chapter  he  apologises  for  the  style  and  com- 
position of  the  work  on  the  ground  that,  having  lived  a 
retired  life  and  conversed  mainly  with  people  who  had  other 
ways  of  employing  their  thoughts,  he  had  been  "forced  to 
break  through  the  briars  of  abstraction  "  by  himself.  He 
says,  what  the  reader  would  certainly  never  have  suspected, 
that  he  was  wanting  in  readiness  of  thought  and  expression  ; 
but  when  he  confesses  that  he  found  great  difficulty  in 
digesting  his  matter,  in  drawing  out  the  threads  of  argumen- 
tation, and  in  preventing  them  from  entangling,  we  may 
readily  believe  him.  But  he  never  seems  to  have  become 
wearied  or  disheartened  on  his  solitary  journey.  Even  if  his 
writings  should  be  of  no  benefit  to  anybody  else,  he  declares, 
they  have  been  of  benefit  to  him,  for  at  the    east  they  have 

211  p  2 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

kept  him  pleasantly  employed  for  many  hours  which  other- 
wise might  have  passed  vacant  or  irksome.  When,  in  1771, 
cataract  in  both  eyes  made  him  totally  blind,  he  not  only 
bore  the  affliction  with  resignation  and  cheerfulness,  but,  by 
means  of  a  little  machine  of  his  own  contrivance  to  guide  the 
hand,  managed  to  write  out  the  concluding  chapters  of  his 
work  with  sufficient  legibility  for  them  to  be  readily  tran- 
scribed by  an  amanuensis.  It  is  a  significant  trait  of  Tucker's 
character,  as  Hazlitt  well  says,  that  he  nowhere  makes  the 
slightest  allusion  to  this  distressing  circumstance.  It  also  says 
something  for  his  pet  theories  of  education,  as  well  as  for  the 
character  of  the  young  lady  herself,  that  his  daughter  Judith 
not  only  became  his  amanuensis  and  transcribed  the  whole 
of  his  voluminous  work  for  the  press,  but  also  learned  enough 
Greek  to  be  able  to  read  to  her  father,  in  order  that  his 
blindness  might  not  deprive  him  of  the  solace  of  his  favourite 
classical  authors.  He  lived  long  enough  to  complete  "  The 
Light  of  Nature,"  though  not  to  give  it  the  final  revision 
which  he  had  intended.  On  looking  it  over,  he  said,  he  found 
the  performance  fall  short  of  the  idea  he  had  had  at  starting, 
and  perhaps  his  design  required  a  more  expert  and  masterly 
hand ;  but  having  done  his  best,  he  will  rest  content. 

"The  women  generally  end  their  letters  with,  'Excuse  mistakes 
through  haste ' ;  and  many  male  authors  affect  to  give  you  a  hint  that 
they  could  have  done  better  if  they  had  a  mind  or  would  have  allowed 
themselves  more  leisure :  but  I  happen  not  to  be  of  a  humour  to  desire 
excuse  for  mistakes  through  haste ;  I  had  rather  the  reader  should  stand 
satisfied  of  my  care  and  honest  zeal  in  his  service  though  at  the  expense 
of  my  abilities,  and  believe  where  he  sees  a  blemish  that  I  should  have 
done  better  if  I  had  known  how.  For  of  how  little  importance  soever 
this  attempt  may  prove,  it  seemed  the  most  important  I  was  qualified 
to  undertake  ;  and  I  have  laid  down  all  along  that  it  is  not  so  much  the 
significancy  of  the  part  assigned,  as  the  just  and  diligent  performance 
of  it,  that  merits  a  plaudit." 

Tucker  died  in  1774,  at  the  age  of  sixty-nine ;  and  the  three 
concluding  volumes  of  his  treatise  were  published  by  his 
daughter  four  years  afterwards. 

212 


ABRAHAM  TUCKER 

It  is  by  no  means  easy  to  give  within  a  moderate  compass 
an  intelligible  account  of  Tucker's  work.  The  problem  which 
he  seems  to  have  proposed  to  himself  was  this  :  Given  such 
a  creature  as  man  in  such  a  world  as  the  present,  what  can 
we  learn  by  the  light  of  nature  alone  concerning  our  rela- 
tion to  the  universe,  and  what  sort  of  guidance  will  this 
light  afford  us  in  the  practical  conduct  of  life  ?  His  answer 
to  the  problem  occupies  no  less  than  3,951  octavo  pages  ; 
and  as  he  set  out  without  any  very  definite  plan,  worked  out 
every  corollary  with  immense  elaboration,  repeated  himself 
by  discussing  the  same  subjects  over  and  over  again  in  a 
slightly  varying  form,  and  overlaid  the  whole  with  such  an 
abundance  of  illustrative  comment  that  sometimes  one 
cannot  see  the  wood  for  the  trees,  it  is  obvious  that  we 
must  limit  ourselves  to  one  or  two  characteristic  points  of 
the  work. 

Tucker  proclaims  himself  to  be  a  follower  of  Locke, 
although  occasionally  he  ventures  to  disagree  with  his 
master;  and  he  adopts  unreservedly  Hartley's  principle  of 
association,  which,  however,  he  renames  "  translation." 
All  our  knowledge,  such  as  it  is,  is  derived  from  sensation  and 
reflection,  whence  by  "  translation  "  we  get  our  "  opinions, 
assents,  and  judgments."  There  are  two  kinds  of  judgment : 
appearance,  which  is  the  judgment  of  sense;  and  opinion, 
which  is  the  judgment  of  understanding ;  both  unfortunately 
very  apt  to  be  wrong  !  Yet  every  judgment,  while  it  is  our 
present  judgment,  "  carries  the  same  face  of  veracity  "  ;  and 
the  highest  pitch  to  which  assurance  ever  rises  is  "  when  we 
can  form  no  conception  how  things  can  possibly  be  other- 
wise than  as  we  apprehend  them."  It  does  not  follow, 
however,  that  we  may  never  depend  upon  such  knowledge  as 
we  have,  for,  as  absolute  certainty  was  not  made  for  man, 
man  is  so  constituted  as  to  do  very  well  without  it.  Tucker 
quaintly  adds  that  although  he  is  well  enough  persuaded  that 
two  and  two  make  four,  yet  if  he  were  to  meet  with  a  person 
of  credit,  candour,  and  understanding  who  should  seriously 

213 


NOBLE   DAMES   AND   NOTABLE   MEN 

call  it  in  question,  he  would  give  him  a  hearing.  According 
to  Tucker's  psychology,  we  have  two  "  faculties "  only, 
imagination  and  understanding,  the  former  being  the  execu- 
tive power  and  having  for  the  most  part  the  direction  of  our 
conduct,  while  the  latter  is  a  legislative  power,  serviceable 
chiefl}^  for  putting  the  suggestions  of  the  other  into  proper 
"  trains."  All  human  action  is  determined  by  motives  ;  and 
what  we  call  the  will  does  not  control  our  motives,  but  is, 
on  the  contrary,  controlled  by  them.  The  great  dominant 
motive  of  human  nature  is  the  prospect  of  what  he  calls 
"  satisfaction,"  which,  being  interpreted,  means  the  obtaining 
of  pleasure  or  the  avoiding  of  pain.  Men  always  do  that 
"  wherein  they  for  the  present  apprehend  the  greatest  satis- 
faction." Even  when  they  forego  pleasures  or  endure  pains, 
they  do  so  for  the  sake  of  something  which  they  conceive 
to  be  more  satisfactory.  The  virtues  are  described  as 
"  habits  or  turns  of  sentiment  inclining  spontaneously  to 
such  points  of  aim  or  courses  of  action  as  sober  reason  and 
sound  judgment  would  recommend,"  and  the  passions  are 
regarded  as  only  a  stronger  sort  of  habits  acquired  in  child- 
hood. Honour,  fortitude,  temperance,  justice,  and  bene- 
volence are  all  found  to  rest  on  a  utilitarian  basis ;  and  it  is 
altogether  by  means  of  "  translation  "  that  the  base  metal 
of  selfishness  has  been  transmuted  into  the  pure  gold  of 
benevolence.  The  summum  bonuni  is  declared  to  be 
happiness,  defined  as  "  the  aggregate  of  satisfactions "  ; 
and  Tucker  does  not  scruple  to  recommend  the  gratification 
of  our  desires  as  "  the  proper  business  of  life."  He  is  careful 
to  point  out,  however,  that  pleasure,  in  the  vulgar  acceptation 
of  the  word,  will  not  always  even  please,  and  that  unfor- 
tunately our  desires  often  defeat  their  own  purpose,  so  that 
their  very  interest  sometimes  calls  for  self-denial  ;  but  in 
itself  self-denial  is  an  evil,  and  its  only  use  is  "  for  inuring 
us  to  do  the  same  things  we  did  under  it  without  any  self- 
denial  at  all."  Most  people,  he  points  out,  have  an  entirely 
mistaken  notion  of  pleasure,  like  the  boy  who  wished  to  be  a 

214 


ABRAHAM  TUCKER 

king  that  he  might  have  an  officer  appointed  to  swing  him 
all  day  long  upon  a  gate.  Moreover,  the  bulk  of  mankind 
usually  seek  after  intense  pleasures  rather  than  after  a  con- 
tinuance of  gentler  amusements,  although  nothing  is  more 
certain  than  that  "  high  delights,  Hke  high  sauces,  if  they 
draw  no  other  mischief  after  them,  at  least  pall  the  appetite 
for  anything  else."  A  selection  of  such  pleasures,  he  says, 
as  are  valuable  for  their  fruits  and  appendages,  rather  than 
such  as  delight  only  in  the  fruition,  most  obviously  marks 
the  difference  between  a  civilised  and  a  barbarous  people, 
for  the  pleasures  of  pure  nature,  the  gratifications  of  undis- 
ciplined appetite,  are  as  intense,  or  perhaps  more  so,  than 
those  of  refinement. 

"  When  a  child  I  have  been  more  highly  delighted  with  a  coloured 
print  bought  for  a  halfpenny,  with  a  ballad  tune  sung  by  the  coarse- 
piped  chambermaid,  in  reading  the  dragon  of  Wautley,  in  discovering 
a  better  way  of  building  houses  with  cards,  than  ever  I  was  since  with 
the  finest  paintings,  the  sweetest  music,  the  sublimest  poetry,  or  the 
luckiest  thought  occurring  in  the  progress  of  my  Chapters :  even  the 
heights  of  Philosophy  and  effusions  of  grace,  if  you  regard  only  the 
present  moment,  are  not  more  transporting  than  the  amusements  of 
childhood.  Nor  do  I  doubt  that  the  American  savages  find  as  strong 
relish  in  their  lumps  of  flesh  with  the  skin  on,  taken  from  the  burning 
coals,  in  their  contrivances  to  catch  the  beavers,  in  successes  against 
their  enemies  and  seizures  of  plunder,  as  we  do  in  our  dainties,  our 
elegancies,  our  arts  and  accomplishments.  And  after  all,  perhaps  we 
have  no  greater  enjoyments  among  us  than  those  of  eating  when  we 
are  hungry,  drinking  when  we  are  thirsty,  laying  down  when  sleepy, 
or  as  the  second  Solomon  has  pronounced,  than  scratching  where  it 
itches." 

All  the  passions,  affections,  aversions,  habits,  etc.,  have 
their  seat  in  the  imagination  ;  but  this  faculty,  having  no 
discrimination,  invariably  catches  at  the  satisfaction  of  the 
present  moment,  and  needs  perpetual  bringing  to  book  by 
reason.  But  even  reason,  although  able  to  look  forward  to 
a  larger  sum  of  satisfactions,  or  greater  good,  is  too  short- 
sighted to  discern  clearly,  or  make  a  just  computation  of,  all 
the  consequences  of  action,  and  is  therefore  usually  obliged 

215 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

to  take  some  rule,  the  product  of  her  former  experience  or  of 
other  people's  experience  or  judgment,  for  her  mark  of  direc- 
tion, and  her  ultimate  end  is  therefore  very  rarely  her  ultimate 
point  of  view  ;  and  even  when  she  has  fixed  upon  her  point, 
whether  ultimate  or  subordinate,  it  will  avail  nothing  unless 
she  can  raise  up  an  appetite  or  habit  to  create  an  immediate 
satisfaction  in  the  prosecution  or  an  uneasiness  in  the  devia- 
tion from  it.  Man  has  been  wrongly  defined  as  a  rational 
animal,  says  Tucker;  he  is  only  sensitivo-rational.  And  then, 
by  way  of  illustrating  the  action  and  interaction  of  these 
two  parts  of  our  constitution,  he  gives  us  a  peculiarly  fine 
and  highly  wrought  simile,  after  the  manner  of  Plato.  It 
will  be  remembered  that  in  Plato's  "  Phsedrus  "  the  form  of 
the  soul  is  compared  to  a  charioteer  and  a  pair  of  winged 
steeds,  one  of  which  is  mortal,  the  other  immortal.  The 
charioteer  represents  reason,  the  black  horse,  an  ill-condi- 
tioned animal,  who  will  hardly  yield  to  blow  or  spur,  stands 
for  the  sensual  element  in  human  nature ;  and  the  white 
horse,  a  noble  steed,  readily  guided  by  word  and  admonition 
only,  represents  the  heaven-aspiring  and  spiritual  element  in 
humanity.     But  says  Tucker  : — 

"  I  think  the  mind  may  be  more  commodiously  compared  to  a 
traveller  riding  a  single  horse,  wherein  Reason  is  represented  by  the 
rider ;  and  Imagination,  with  all  its  train  of  opinions,  appetites,  and 
habits,  by  the  beast.  Everybody  sees  that  the  horse  does  all  the  work  ; 
he  carries  his  master  along  every  step  of  the  journey,  directs  the  motion 
of  his  own  legs  in  walking,  trotting,  gallopping,  or  stepping  over  a  rote, 
makes  many  by-motions,  as  whisking  the  flies  with  his  tail,  or  playing 
with  his  bit,  all  by  his  own  instinct ;  and  if  the  road  lie  plain  and  open, 
without  bugbears  to  affright  him,  or  rich  pasture  on  either  hand  to 
entice  him,  he  will  jog  on,  although  the  reins  were  laid  upon  his  neck, 
or  in  a  well-acquainted  road,  take  the  turnings  of  his  own  accord. 
Perhaps  sometimes  he  may  prove  starfish  or  restive,  turning  out  of  the 
way,  or  running  into  a  pond  to  drink,  maugre  all  endeavours  to  prevent 
him ;  but  this  depends  greatly  upon  the  discipline  he  has  been  used  to. 
The  office  of  the  rider  lies  in  putting  his  horse  into  the  proper  road,  and 
the  pace  most  convenient  for  the  present  purpose,  guiding  and  con- 
ducting him  as  he  goes  along,  checking  him  when  too  forward,  or 
spurring  him  when  too  tardy,  being  attentive  to  his  motions,  never 

2l6 


ABRAHAM   TUCKER 

dropping  the  whip  nor  losing  the  reins,  but  ready  to  interpose  instantly 
whenever  needful,  keeping  firm  in  his  seat  if  the  beast  behaves  unruly, 
observing  what  passes  in  the  way,  the  condition  of  the  ground,  and 
bearings  of  the  country,  in  order  to  take  directions  therefrom  for  his 
proceeding.  But  this  is  not  all  he  has  to  do  ;  he  must  get  his  tackling 
in  good  order,  bridle,  spurs,  and  other  accoutrements ;  he  must  learn 
to  sit  well  in  the  saddle,  to  understand  the  ways  and  temper  of  the 
beast,  get  acquainted  with  the  roads,  and  inure  himself  by  practice 
to  bear  long  journeys  without  fatigue  or  galling ;  he  must  provide 
provender  for  his  horse,  and  deal  it  out  in  proper  quantities  ;  for  if 
weak  and  jadish,  or  pampered  and  gamesome,  he  will  not  perform  the 
journey  well :  he  must  have  him  well  broke,  taught  all  his  paces,  cured 
of  starting,  stumbling,  running  away,  and  all  skittish  or  sluggish  tricks, 
trained  to  answer  the  bit  and  be  obedient  to  the  word  of  command. 
If  he  can  teach  him  to  canter  whenever  there  is  a  smooth  and  level 
turf,  and  stop  where  the  ground  lies  rugged,  of  his  own  accord,  it  will 
contribute  to  making  riding  easy  and  pleasant ;  he  may  then  enjoy  the 
prospects  around,  or  think  of  any  business,  without  interruption  to  his 
progress.  As  to  the  choice  of  a  horse,  our  rider  has  no  concern  with 
that,  he  must  content  himself  with  such  as  nature  and  education  have 
put  into  his  hands  ;  but  since  the  spirit  of  the  beast  depends  much 
upon  the  usage  given  him,  every  prudent  man  will  endeavour  to  pro- 
portion that  spirit  to  his  own  strength  and  skill  in  horsemanship  ;  and 
according  as  he  finds  himself  a  good  or  a  bad  rider,  will  wish  to  have 
his  horse  sober  or  mettlesome.  For  strong  passions  work  wonders 
where  there  is  a  stronger  force  of  reason  to  curb  them  ;  but  where  this 
is  weak,  the  appetites  must  be  feeble  too,  or  they  will  lie  under  no 
control." 

Although  the  desire  of  "  satisfaction  "  is  the  mainspring  of 
all  our  motives,  there  are  a  number  of  other  principles  of 
human  conduct  and  a  number  of  subsidiary  motives  which 
require  to  be  taken  account  of.  Most  of  these  motives  are 
of  the  "translated  "  kind,  i.e.,  so  transformed  by  association 
that  what  was  originally  only  a  means  to  an  end  has  become 
an  end  in  itself.  When  we  attempt  to  recollect  the  induce- 
ments of  our  conduct,  he  remarks,  there  commonly  occur, 
instead  of  them,  specious  reasons  serving  to  justify  it  to 
ourselves  or  to  the  world ;  and  he  warns  us  to  beware  of  this 
jugglery  and  always  make  sure  of  knowing  what  are  our 
real  motives,  for  only  by  the  study  of  motives  can  we  come 
to  know  ourselves.      The  foundation  of  all  the  virtues   is 

217 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

"  moral  prudence,"  a  quality  which  he  finds  it  somewhat 
hard  to  define.  Considered  from  one  point  of  view,  it  is  "  a 
disposition  of  mind  to  regard  distant  good  equally  with 
present  pleasure,  estimating  both  according  to  their  real,  not 
apparent,  magnitude,  like  the  skill  we  have  of  discerning  a 
grown  person  twenty  yards  off  to  be  larger  than  a  child 
sitting  in  our  lap,  though  the  latter  take  up  more  room  in 
our  eye."  This  is  declared  to  be  the  most  durable  possession 
we  can  have  and  the  very  essence  of  moral  wisdom. 
Benevolence,  though  generally  treated  by  ethical  writers  as 
a  branch  of  justice,  might  more  appropriately,  he  thinks,  be 
considered  as  the  root  from  which  the  other  springs ;  and  he 
proposes  to  raise  it  to  the  rank  of  a  fifth  cardinal  virtue. 
The  pure  gold  of  benevolence  is  another  thing  altogether 
from  the  base  metal  selfishness,  out  of  which  it  has  been 
"translated." 

"  Persons  deficient  in  this  quality  endeavour  to  run  it  down,  and 
justify  their  own  narrow  views,  by  alleging  that  it  is  only  selfishness  in 
a  particular  form  :  for  if  the  benevolent  man  does  a  good-natured  thing, 
for  his  own  satisfaction  that  he  finds  in  it,  there  is  self  at  bottom, 
for  he  acts  to  please  himself.  '  Where  then,'  say  they,  '  is  his  merit  ? 
What  is  he  better  than  us  ?  He  follows  constantly  what  he  likes,  and 
so  do  we:  the  only  difference  between  us  is  that  we  have  a  different 
taste  of  pleasure  from  him.'  To  take  these  objections  in  order,  let  us 
consider  that  form  in  many  cases  is  all  in  all,  the  essence  of  things 
depending  thereupon.  Fruit,  when  come  to  its  maturity,  or  during  its 
state  of  sap  in  the  tree,  or  of  earthy  particles  in  the  ground,  is  the  same 
substance  all  along :  beef,  whether  raw  or  roasted  or  putrified,  is  still 
the  same  beef,  varying  only  in  form :  but  whoever  shall  overlook  this 
difference  of  form  will  bring  grievous  disorders  upon  his  stomach  :  so 
then  there  is  no  absurdity  in  supposing  selfishness  may  be  foul  and 
noisome  under  one  form,  but  amiable  and  recommendable  under 
another.  But  we  have  no  need  to  make  this  supposition,  as  we  shall 
not  admit  that  acts  of  kindness,  how  much  soever  we  may  follow  our 
own  inclination  therein,  carry  any  spice  of  selfishness.  Men  are  led 
into  this  mistake  by  laying  too  much  stress  upon  etymology :  for 
selfishness  being  derived  from  self,  they  learnedly  infer  that  whatever 
is  done  to  please  one's  own  inclination,  must  fall  under  that  appellation, 
not  considering  that  derivatives  do  not  always  retain  the  full  latitude 
of  their  roots.     Wearing  woollen  clothes,  or  eating  mutton,  does  not 

2l8 


ABRAHAM   TUCKER 

make  a  man  sheepish,  nor  does  employing  himself  now  and  then  in 
reading  make  him  bookish  :  so  neither  is  everything  selfish  that  relates 
to  self.  If  somebody  should  tell  you  that  such  an  one  was  a  very 
selfish  person,  and,  for  proof  of  it,  give  a  loug  account  of  his  being  once 
catched  on  horseback  by  a  shower,  that  he  took  shelter  under  a  tree, 
that  he  alighted,  put  on  his  greatcoat,  and  was  wholly  busied  in  muffling 
himself  up,  without  having  a  single  thought  all  the  while  of  his  wife  or 
children,  his  friends  or  his  country :  would  you  not  take  it  for  a  banter  ? 
or  would  you  think  the  person  or  his  behaviour  could  be  called  selfish 
in  any  propriety  of  speech  ?  What  if  a  man  agreeable  and  obliging  in 
company  should  happen  to  desire  another  lump  of  sugar  in  his  tea  to 
please  his  own  palate,  would  they  pronounce  him  a  whit  the  more 
selfish  upon  that  account  ?  So  that  selfishness  is  not  having  a  regard 
for  oneself,  but  having  no  regard  for  anything  else." 

His  chapter  on  this  subject  concludes  with  an  admirable 
passage,  which  I  must  refrain  from  quoting,  in  which  he 
reconciles  the  existence  of  this  disinterested  benevolence 
with  his  principle  of  happiness  as  the  ultimate  end  of  action. 
Supposing,  in  his  humorous  way,  a  wise  man  to  be  utterly 
divested  of  all  desires  save  that  of  happiness,  and  that  in 
his  neighbourhood  virtues,  vices,  tastes,  and  inclinations  of 
every  fashion  were  for  sale,  like  clothes  ready-made  in  the 
shops,  he  undertakes  to  show  why  such  a  man  would  choose 
to  purchase  a  suit  of  benevolence  as  the  most  convenient  for 
his  wearing.  Unfortunately,  as  he  admits,  these  wise  people 
are  everywhere  in  a  minority  ;  but  if  only  charity  and  fellow- 
felling  could  be  made  the  prevailing  humour  in  the  world,  it 
would  become  "  as  fashionable  and  engaging  to  ride  as  many 
miles  upon  a  pubHc  service  as  after  a  stinking  fox."  ♦ 

Concerning  Tucker's  peculiar  and  eccentric  way  of  illustrat- 
ing his  religious  conceptions  something  will  have  to  be  said 
presently ;  but  of  his  system  of  natural  religion  it  is 
unnecessary  to  say  more  than  that  it  is  well  enough  known  as 
Paley's,  for  it  was  from  "  The  Light  of  Nature  "  that  the 
latter  borrowed  most  of  his  arguments  and  illustrations, 
including  even  the  famous  simile  of  the  watch.  There  was, 
however,  one  part  of  Tucker's  treatise  of  which  the 
unimaginative,    hard-headed,    and    lawyer-like    archdeacon 

2ig 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

made  no  use,  upon  which,  indeed,  he  probably  looked  down 
with  a  mixture  of  amusement  and  contempt.  Yet  it  is 
precisely  this  part  of  the  work  which  the  modern  reader  will 
in  all  probability  find  most  curious  and  suggestive,  and  in 
which  Tucker  exhibits  himself  most  unmistakably  as  a  man 
of  original  genius.  Having  shown  imagination  to  be  so  much 
our  strongest  faculty  that  the  convictions  of  reason  can 
seldom  be  expected  to  have  much  weight  or  duration  until 
they  can  be  represented  in  sensible  images,  he  was,  of  course, 
only  carrying  his  own  psychological  principles  into  practice 
when,  with  the  object  of  making  the  general  idea  of  a  con- 
tinued existence  in  another  world  less  hard  of  conception, 
he  proceeded  to  develop  at  great  length  two  hypotheses 
concerning  what  he  called  the  *'  vehicular  state  "  and  the 
"  mundane  soul,"  and  to  give  in  the  form  of  a  vision  a 
detailed  description,  as  by  an  eye-witness,  of  the  life  of  the 
soul  in  a  future  state.  His  aim  was,  he  tells  us,  to  represent 
a  future  state  of  being  which,  from  all  that  we  know  of  the 
laws  of  mind  and  matter,  is  at  least  possible,  which  is 
certainly  innocent  of  offence,  and  which,  to  his  mind  at  any 
rate,  appeared  to  be  a  great  deal  more  inviting  than  the 
current  representations  usually  offered  from  the  pulpit. 

For  the  purpose  of  his  first  hypothesis  Tucker  assumes 
that  on  the  death  of  the  body  the  spirit  does  not  go  out 
naked,  but  carries  away  with  it  a  material  "vehicle,"  so  small 
as  to  be  invisible  and  incapable  of  affecting  the  finest  balance. 
He  argues  that  the  smallest  conceivable  particle  of  matter 
is  capable  of  containing  as  great  a  variety  of  parts  and 
machinery  as  the  whole  human  body,  and  that  just  as 
St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  with  all  its  parts  complete,  might  con- 
ceivably be  reduced  to  the  size  of  a  nutshell,  so  the  human 
body,  without  the  destruction  of  any  of  its  component  parts 
or  their  functions,  might  be  reduced  to  a  size  which  would  be 
imperceptible  even  under  the  strongest  microscope;  and,  in 
case  anybody  should  be  disturbed  by  the  idea  of  being 
reduced  to  what  they  might  perhaps  consider  so  contemptible 

220 


ABRAHAM   TUCKER 

a  size,  he  reminds  them  that  the  strongest  and  biggest  things 
on  earth  are  by  no  means  the  most  favoured  by  nature. 

"  A  little  horse  shifts  its  legs  quiclcer  than  a  tall  one  ;  the  vulture  and 
the  eagle  cannot  flutter  their  wings  so  fast  as  the  sparrow  ;  nor  did  you 
ever  see  a  hornet  crawl  along  the  table  so  nimbly  as  a  fly  ;  and  little 
men  are  generally  the  quickest  in  their  motions.     Imagine  a  race  of 
giants  as  big  as  Hampstead-hill,  placed  on  an  earth  which,  with  all 
its  animals,  fruits,  corn,  trees,  and  vegetables,  should  be  proportionately 
vast :  they  might  then  have  the  same  accommodations  as  we  have,  but 
could  not  find  the  same  uses  and  convenience  in  them,  by  reason  of 
the  tediousness  of  their  motions.     Consider  how  long  they  must  be  at 
dinner  ;    if  they  sat  down  at  eight  in  the  morning,  they  would  scarce 
finish  their  repast  by  night,  having  a  mile  to  carry  every  morsel  from 
their  plate  to  their  mouths  ;  when  they  went  to  bed,  it  must  take  an 
hour  to  get  upstairs,  and  after  having  unbuttoned  their  coat,  they  must 
give  their  arm  a  swing  of  two  or  three  miles  round  to  pull  down  the 
sleeve  behind ;  when  they  talked  it  would  require  four  or  five  seconds 
for  their  voices  to  reach  one  another's  ears  ;  and  as  it  may  be  supposed 
their  mental  organs  are  conformable  in  size  to  their  bodily,  if  you 
asked  what's  o'clock,  it  might  be  necessary  to  consider  half  an  hour 
before  they  could  think  of  the  proper  answer.     In  short,  they  must 
needs  be  a  slow,  solemn,  and  heavy  generation,  without  any  spark  of 
•wit  or  liveliness  belonging  to  them.     If  one  of  us  were  migrated  into 
their  enormous  hulks,  should  we  not,  think  ye,  wish  ardently  to  get 
back  again  into  our  less  than  six-foot  bodies  ?     And  by  parity  of  reason 
it  may  be  presumed  that  when  delivered  from  our  present  cumbersome 
bodies,  if  we  remember  anything  of  our  sensations  therein,  we  shall  be 
as  much  rejoiced  to  find  ourselves  in  a  body  proportionably  less  and 
proportionably  more  alert,  wherein  we  may  despatch  as  much  business 
in  a  minute  as  we  can  now  in  an  hour,  and  perhaps  be  able  to  read 
through    Guicciardini    in   the   time   we   are   now   poring  over  all  the 
nothings  in  a  four-columned  newspaper." 

But  even  this  infinitesimal  human  body  would  not  be  small 
enough  for  Tucker's  purpose ;  and,  as  he  did  not  agree  with 
Epicurus  that  nature  could  not  form  a  reasonable  creature 
except  in  human  shape,  he  supposed  these  hypothetical 
"  vehicles  "  to  be  made,  not  in  the  form  of  a  man  or  of  any 
other  animal,  but  in  the  form  of  a  bag ;  and  he  imagined 
them,  moreover,  to  be  composed  of  a  substance  so  flexible 
and  so  obedient  to  the  will  that,  whenever  required,  it  could 
be  made  as  soft  as  a  feather  or  as  hard  as  a  bone,  or  formed 

221 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

into  any  requisite  shape.  Even  in  our  present  condition,  he 
reminds  us,  we  have  only  one  windpipe  to  talk,  to  whine,  to 
rant,  or  to  scold  with.  If  it  were  necessary  to  have  a  different 
pipe  for  every  articulate  sound,  our  throats  must  have  been 
made  bigger  than  a  chamber  organ.  And  just  as  we  are 
now  able  to  cast  this  single  pipe  into  as  many  various  forms 
as  there  are  tones  of  voice  to  be  uttered,  so  in  the  "  vehicular 
state  "  the  whole  of  our  frame  might  be  similarly  constituted. 
Vehicular  souls,  he  concludes,  will  be  born  into  the  other 
life  as  much  a  blank  paper  as  ever  they  came  into  this,  and 
will,  therefore,  require  the  care  of  the  old  inhabitants  of  the 
State  to  cherish  and  educate  them ;  but  although  they  will 
have  no  actual  remembrance  of  their  life  on  earth,  yet,  having 
acuter  faculties  than  ours,  they  may  by  application  and 
exercise  acquire  such  a  dexterity  at  inferring  causes  from 
their  effects  as  to  discover  their  own  pre-existence,  trace  out 
all  that  has  happened  to  them  in  a  former  state,  be  able  to 
tell  by  the  manner  wherein  new-comers  arrive  who  they  are 
and  whence  they  come,  and  even  to  become  acquainted  with 
the  whole  history  of  mankind. 

"  By  these  marks  they  may  find  out  a  wife,  a  child,  a  brother,  a 
friend,  a  neighbour,  a  compatriot,  and  (what  is  more  than  we  could 
do  with  our  faculty  of  remembrance)  may  distinguish  their  descendants 
who  never  came  to  the  birth,  or  were  snatched  away  from  their 
cradle." 

At  the  same  time,  although  a  soul  enters  the  "  vehicular 
state  "a  mere  tabula  rasa,  and  although  "the  spirits  of  an 
angel,  a  politician,  a  shoe-cleaner,  an  idiot,  a  man,  or  a  child, 
are  intrinsically  the  same,"  yet  every  man  goes  out  of  this 
world  with  a  differently  modelled  "  vehicle,"  not  only  accord- 
ing as  he  has  been  a  soldier  or  a  scholar,  a  merchant  or  a 
mechanic,  a  gentleman  or  a  labourer,  but  also  according  to 
the  joys  and  afflictions,  the  successes  and  disappointments, 
the  thoughts  and  the  habits,  which  have  been  his  throughout 
this  mortal  life.  The  inhabitants  of  the  "  vehicular  state  " 
form  a  regular  community,  and,  in  addition  to  their  own 

222 


ABRAHAM   TUCKER 

present  and  proper  interests,  have  an  interest  in  all  that 
happens  among  us  in  so  far  as  that  tends  to  form  characters 
and  abilities  which  may  be  wanted  for  future  service  among 
themselves.  But  their  condition  is  not  eternal.  The  "  vehi- 
cular" life  has  stages  corresponding  to  our  youth,  maturity, 
and  age ;  and  in  process  of  time  the  spirit,  distending  and 
separating  the  fibres  of  the"  vehicle"  by  its  inevitable  expan- 
sion, flies  off  naked  and  alone.  What  happens  to  it  then  is 
the  subject  of  the  second  hypothesis. 

Tucker  was  fond  of  taking  up  an  old  classical  notion  and 
remodelling  it  according  to  his  own  fancy.  How  he  dealt 
with  Plato's  mythical  charioteer  has  already  been  seen.  He 
now  proceeds  to  deal  in  somewhat  similar  fashion  with  the 
old  notion  of  a  soul  of  the  world.  As  expounded  in  the 
**  Timseus,"  the  idea  of  a  soul  of  the  world  was  inextricably 
mixed  up  with  certain  Pythagorean  abstractions  concerning 
number.  But,  to  put  it  briefly,  the  world  was  conceived  to 
be  a  living  animal,  with  a  soul  diffused  throughout  from 
centre  to  circumference.  Because  this  animal  was  to  contain 
all  others,  he  was  made  in  the  form  of  a  sphere.  He  had 
neither  eyes,  nor  ears,  nor  hands,  because  there  was  nothing 
outside  of  himself  to  see,  hear,  or  feel ;  and  because,  as  Plato 
assures  us,  that  is  the  most  intellectual  of  motions,  he  moved 
in  a  circle  turning  within  himself,  and  consequently  had  no 
need  of  legs  and  feet.  At  first  sight  this  idea  does  not  seem 
a  very  promising  one  for  the  modern  philosopher,  but  Tucker 
adapts  it  to  his  purpose  with  great  ingenuity.  He  asks  us  to 
imagine  "  all  space  not  occupied  by  matter"  to  be  filled  with 
individual  spirits,  lying  contiguous  together,  so  that  "  a 
perception  raised  in  any  one  of  them  by  some  particle  of 
matter  would  run  instantly  through  them  all  quicker  than 
fire  does  among  the  grains  of  gunpowder."  This  constitutes 
the  mundane  soul,  which,  we  are  told,  "  is  one,  no  other- 
wise than  as  the  sea  is  one,  by  a  similitude  and  contiguity  of 
parts,  being  composed  of  an  innumerable  host  of  distinct 
spirits,  as  that  of  aqueous  particles."     From  this  sea  of  spirit 

223 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

are  drawn  all  the  souls  needful  for  the  bodies  that  are  born 
into  this  world,  and  the  vacant  spaces  are  filled  up  by  the 
passage  into  it  of  fully  developed  spirits  from  the  "  vehicular 
state."    "  The  parts  of  the  universal  soul  will  serve  for  organs 
to  each  other,  conveying  perceptions  instantaneously  from 
the  most  distant  regions  of  nature,  distributing  to  every  one 
whatever  information  it  may  concern  him  to  receive,  for  we 
know  of  nothing  so  quick  as  thought,  nor  that  it  takes  up 
any  time  in  its  progress."    As  their  knowledge  is  derived  from 
one  common  fund,  they  will  all  have  the  same  sentiments 
and  rules  of  conduct.     And  seeing  that  our  spirits  may  very 
well  be  capable  of  receiving  impressions  from  twenty  senses, 
though  now  we  are  provided  with  only  five  and  have  no 
more  conception  of  any  others  than  a  blind  man  has  of  light, 
the  extent  of  the  mundane  understanding  must  not  be  limited 
by  the  narrowness  of  our  own,  though  there  is  no  reason  for 
us  to  suppose  it  infinite.     But  this  god,  or  animal,  or  glorified 
man,  which  is  the  world,  "will  have  a  full   discernment  of 
all  his  parts,  with  their  combinations,  proportions,  situations, 
and  uses."     The  minutest  thing  will  not  escape  his  notice  ; 
he    will    be    all    intelligence,    perfect    reason,    and   unerring 
judgment ;    and    his  activity  will    be  co-extensive  with   his 
intelligence.     Tucker,  in  fact,  makes  the  mundane  soul   a 
sort  of  deputy  or  vice-regent  of  God,  and  credits  him  with 
the  generation  and  sustentation  of  the  world.     The  strength 
of  each  of  these  spirits  singly,  he  says,  might  be  very  trifling, 
perhaps  scarce  able  to  lift  a  mote  in  the  sunbeams,  yet  by 
their  united  action  they  would  be  able  to  perform  far  more 
stupendous  wonders  than  Milton's  archangels.     On  the  dis- 
ruption   of  a    "  vehicle "    its    inhabitant    becomes   instantly 
incorporated  into  the  mundane  soul ;  and  in  this  state  there 
is  no  infancy,  or   growth  of  faculties,   or  advancement    in 
learning,  as  there  was  in  the  former,  but  a  new-comer  at 
once  becomes  possessed  of  all  the  knowledge  and  designs 
of  its  neighbours,  and  immediately  takes  its  share  in  their 
operations,  according  to  the  station  wherein  it  happens  to 

224 


ABRAHAM   TUCKER 

fall.  It  is  impossible,  declares  Tucker,  to  imagine  a  more 
intimate  "  communion  of  saints  "  than  such  a  host  of  happy 
spirits,  acting  in  concert,  carrying  on  one  plan  of  operations, 
the  act  of  all  seeming  the  act  of  every  one,  and  each  having 
a  kind  of  consciousness  of  what  is  performed  by  the  whole 
company.  But  he  feels  that  his  notion  may  still  seem  strange 
and  rather  hard  of  realisation  by  that  eighteenth  century 
man  in  the  street  whom  he  had  always  in  his  mind's  eye ; 
so  he  proceeds  to  develop  the  idea  further  in  the  guise  of  a 
vision. 

After  falling  asleep  one  night  with  his  mind  full  of  the 
foregoing  speculations,  he  thought  that  something  suddenly 
broke  in  his  head,  whereupon  his  soul  separated  from  his 
body,  and  the  latter,  being  whirled  away  by  the  motion  of 
the  earth  at  the  rate  of  nine  hundred  miles  a  minute,  left 
the  former  stranded  as  a  helpless  infant  in  another  world. 
For  a  time  he  remained  totally  insensible ;  then  he  was 
roused  by  a  sensation  of  something  brushing  against  him, 
and  although  he  seemed  to  have  no  limbs,  or  muscles,  or 
other  organs,  he  determined  that  he  would  try  to  catch  hold 
of  whatever  it  was  that  continued  to  pass  so  nimbly  by. 
Immediately  this  resolve  was  formed  he  seemed  to  be 
stretching  out  a  hundred  hands  in  every  direction  ;  but,  as 
these  were  instantly  bombarded  by  what  felt  like  a  shower 
ol  hard  balls,  he  incontinently  drew  the  hands  in  again.  He 
discovered  afterwards  that  these  bombarding  balls  were 
passing  rays  of  light,  but  at  the  moment  he  knew  not  what 
to  make  of  it.  However,  a  little  further  cogitation  suggested 
that,  as  he  had  so  readily  managed  to  furnish  himself  with 
hands,  he  might  also  in  similar  fashion  provide  himself  with 
eyes  ;  and,  sure  enough,  after  a  trial  or  two,  he  found  himself 
able  to  thrust  out  a  pair  of  optics  with  which  to  reconnoitre 
his  surroundings.  He  then  beheld  a  kind  of  sack  or  bag 
filled  out  like  a  bladder  with  air,  uniform  everywhere  except 
that  from  one  place  there  came  out  a  hand  and  arm,  which 
were  holding  him  (or  rather  the  similar  bag  in  which  he  now 

N.D.  225  Q 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

perceived  himself  to  be  enclosed),  and  that  from  another 
place  protruded  a  longish  neck,  with  a  head  on  it,  having  a 
meagre,  lank-jawed  face,  very  like  the  prints  he  had  seen  of 
John  Locke. 

"  It  looked  upon  me  steadfastly,  with  a  mild  and  benign  aspect,  and 
the  lips  moved  as  in  speaking.  This  made  me  quite  impatient  to  hear 
what  was  said,  but  I  was  as  deaf  as  a  post :  howe'ver,  having  already 
found  myself  provided  with  hands  enow,  I  did  not  despair  of  finding 
plenty  of  ears  too,  if  I  could  but  tell  how  to  open  them.  My  whole 
attention  and  desire  being  now  bent  upon  hearing,  my  eyes  sunk  in 
directly  and  left  me  in  the  dark,  but  I  heard  a  confused  jumble  of 
whispers,  short,  broken,  and  inarticulate  at  first ;  yet  that  did  not 
discourage  me,  believing  I  should  manage  better  by  degrees,  as  I 
had  done  in  the  use  of  my  sight.  Accordingly,  I  could  soon  distinguish 
my  own  name  repeated,  which  surprised  me  agreeably  to  find  I  was 
among  friends.  '  How's  this  ? '  thinks  I  to  myself,  '  that  the  retired  Ned 
Search,  scarce  known  to  twenty  people  in  the  other  world,  should  be 
so  well  known  here  that  the  first  person  he  meets  accosts  him  by  name  I 
It  must  certainly  be  some  old  acquaintance  whose  face  I  have  forgotten, 
departed  hither  before  me.  Sure  it  can  never  be  really  John  Locke 
himself,  sewn  up  here  in  a  bag  for  his  sins,  for  he  died  before  I  was 
born  ? '  After  this  soliloquy,  reflecting  that  the  more  haste  the  less 
speed,  I  moderated  my  impatience,  and  observing  my  motions  care- 
fully and  minutely,  it  was  not  long  before  I  formed  a  complete  ear, 
with  drum  and  everything  requisite  for  the  auditory  function." 

He  then  learns  that  his  new  acquaintance  is  indeed  John 
Locke,  who,  having  heard  that  Ned  Search,  for  whom  he  had 
a  spiritual  affinity,  was  come  on  a  short  visit  to  the  "vehicular  " 
world,  made  it  his  business  to  meet  him  in  order  to  do  the 
honours  of  the  place.  The  first  necessity,  of  course,  is  to 
instruct  Search  in  the  use  of  his  faculties.  Most  of  the 
inhabitants  use  a  "  sentient "  language,  which  is  carried  on 
by  applying  their  "  vehicles "  close  to  one  another  and 
raising  certain  figures  and  motions  on  their  outsides,  which 
communicate  the  like  to  their  neighbour,  making  the  one,  as 
it  were,  feel  the  other's  thoughts ;  but  for  the  short  period  of 
his  stay  Search  is  advised  to  be  content  with  the  old  vocal 
language.  He  fancies  that  his  "  bag"  must  be  "  big  enough 
to    hold   two    good    Winchester    bushels    of  corn  without 

226 


ABRAHAM   TUCKER 

bursting,"  but  Locke  assures  him  it  is  so  small  that 
thousands  like  him  might  creep  into  a  single  grain.  The 
little  bag,  however,  has  infinite  capacities  ;  and,  to  show  him 
what  can  be  done  with  it,  Locke  throws  himself  into  a 
variety  of  shapes — becoming  first  a  man,  then  a  horse,  an 
eagle,  a  dolphin,  a  serpent,  a  stream  of  water,  a  flame  of  fire, 
a  Briareus,  an  Argus — until  Search  exclaims  that  the 
"  vehicular  state  "  can  never  be  in  want  of  divertissement  if 
all  its  inhabitants  are  such  harlequins  as  that.  Locke  then 
explains  that  they  have  their  imaginations  as  much  under 
command  as  their  limbs,  being  able  to  raise  passions  and 
desires  of  any  sort  they  may  find  expedient,  and  to  lay  these 
down  again  at  any  moment  when  they  are  no  longer  required. 
On  entering  the  "  vehicular  state  "  the  soul  leaves  all  its 
old  acquisitions  behind,  but  brings  with  it  a  peculiar  aptness 
to  make  new  ones  similar  to  those  it  possessed  before. 
Their  condition  is  "  longevous,"  but  not  eternal,  for  they 
are  "  advanced,"  as  they  term  it,  when  they  have  completely 
purged  themselves  from  every  trace  of  "  terrene  concretion." 
Their  mode  of  travelling  is  rather  curious,  for  Search  finds 
that  they  put  out  a  couple  of  legs  and  get  their  momentum 
from  the  rays  of  light  by  a  motion  very  much  like  that  of  a 
Dutchman  skating  upon  ice.  They  dodge  between  the  rays 
of  light  in  a  serpentine  manner,  and  it  is  enough  to  take 
away  the  breath  even  of  a  modern  motorist  to  hear  that  in 
this  fashion  Search  was  carried  along  by  Locke  "  at  the  rate 
of  forty  thousand  miles  in  a  minute  of  Paul's  clock."  The 
new-comer  inquires  after  his  wife,  who  has  been  in  that 
world  for  seven  years,  and  is  informed  that  he  may  pay  her 
a  visit,  though  Locke  drily  remarks  that  "  we  seldom  meet 
with  husbands  so  anxious  about  their  wives."  She  addresses 
him  as  "  Orphy,"  and  he  her  as  "  Riddy,"  which  we  presume 
to  be  the  "  vehicular"  parlance  for  Orpheus  and  Euridice ; 
and  they  converse  about  their  two  daughters,  familiarly 
referred  to  as  "Serena"  and  "  Sparkle,"  until  "  Orphy's  " 
feelings  overcome  him,  and  he  attempts  to  take  "  Riddy  " 

227  Q  2 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

affectionately  by  the  hand,  whereupon  "  that  severe,  relent- 
less pedagogue,  that  hard-hearted  old  batchelor,  Locke  .  .  . 
darted  out  a  brawny  arm  and  mutton  fist,  with  which  he 
catched  up  the  skin  of  my  vehicle,  as  one  catches  up  a  dog 
by  the  nape  of  his  neck,  and  away  we  flew  with  incredible 
swiftness."  Immediately  after  this  Locke  has  occasion  to 
leave  him  alone  for  a  moment,  when  he  undergoes  a  very 
unpleasant  experience. 

"  I  felt  myself  on  a  sudden  seized  all  over  by  something  hard,  rough, 
and  searching,  a  hundred  cords  seemed  to  ring  me  round,  a  thousand 
points  stuck  into  my  flesh,  and  I  felt  rough  teeth  grinding  upon  my 
skin.  Ideas  of  resentment,  cruelty,  avarice,  injustice,  lewdness, 
debauchery,  blasphemy,  terror,  shame,  regret,  and  despair,  poured 
upon  my  imagination,  and  pierced  me  to  the  very  soul.  I  found 
myself  tempted  to  all  kinds  of  wickedness,  to  snatch  the  bread  from 
the  hungry,  tear  out  the  bowels  of  children,  pluck  out  the  eyes  of  my 
dearest  friends,  dash  out  my  own  brains  against  a  stone,  wallow  in 
all  the  impurities  of  a  brothel,  rebel  against  the  throne  of  Heaven,  and 
worship  the  Devil." 

He  struggled  with  all  his  might  against  these  distressing 
thoughts,  and  endeavoured  to  call  up  every  opposite  idea, 
an  effort  which  had  some  effect ;  but  when  Locke  returned  he 
was  still  in  a  state  of  great  uneasiness  and  dismay,  which 
was  not  much  alleviated  when  his  mentor  pointed  out  to 
him  the  cause  of  the  mischief. 

"  I  looked  the  way  he  pointed,  and  saw  a  black  bottled  spider,  as  big 
as  myself,  sprawling  and  cuffing  with  his  nasty  claws  against  three  or 
four  vehicles,  who  thrust  out  arms  as  long  again  as  usual  to  push  him 
away :  however,  they  managed  him  pretty  easily,  and  drove  him  before 
them  to  some  stellar  rays  that  pointed  directly  down  to  earth.  '  Pray,' 
says  I,  '  what  hideous  monster  is  that  ?  The  very  sight  of  him,  though 
so  far  off,  makes  me  shudder,  and  almost  renews  the  pains  I  suffered 
from  him.'  " 

Locke  explains  that  this  is  one  of  a  set  of  wretched 
"  vehicles,"  so  encrusted  with  terrene  concretions  as  to  be 
abandoned  to  misery  and  despair,  and  that  his  name  when 
on  earth  was  Caesar  Borgia.  He  appears  to  have  come  up 
on    an    unwonted   visit    from  the  regions  of  darkness,  and 

228 


ABRAHAM   TUCKER 

would  never  have  dared  to  touch  Search  had  he  not  perceived 
him  to  be  labouring  under  some  temporary  disturbance  of 
mind.  This  was  Search's  first  experience  of  the  vehicular 
"  sentient "  language,  for  it  appears  that  by  applying  himself 
closely  on  all  sides  to  the  other  Borgia  had  been  able  to 
inject  into  him  all  his  own  evil  sentiments.  Locke  cures 
him  in  a  similar  manner. 

" '  Come !  flatten  your  side  a  little,  that  we  may  have  as  large  a 
contact  as  possible.'  He  then  applied  himself  close  to  my  side,  and 
though  I  could  discern  nothing  distinctly,  for  want  of  skill  in  the 
language,  I  felt  such  a  general  gleam  of  piety,  sound  reason,  benevo- 
lence, courage,  temperance,  cheerfulness,  quiet  and  satisfaction,  spread 
over  my  imagination,  as  dissipated  all  my  troubles,  and  restored  me 
perfectly  to  myself  again.  '  Thank  ye,'  says  I,  '  incomparable  master  ; 
I  find  you  can  assist,  instruct,  reprove,  soothe,  and  everything,  just  as 
is  proper.  This  is  an  excellent  language  when  spoken  by  a  good 
orator. 


I  >) 


Locke  next  takes  his  pupil  on  a  visit  to  Plato,  who  on 
learning  that  his  visitor  is  what  Locke  describes  as  "  a 
disconsolate  turtle  who  has  lost  his  mate  "  gives  him  a  charac- 
teristic discourse  on  the  subject  of  love;  and  when  Plato  has 
finished,  the  same  subject  is  taken  up  by  Socrates,  who  cross- 
examines  Search  much  as  he  used  to  do  the  sophists  of 
ancient  Athens.  Plato  and  Locke  together  then  conduct 
him  to  Pythagoras,  who  discourses  to  him  about  the  sacred 
Quaternion  and  the  holy  Tetragrammaton  and  other 
mysteries  of  the  One  and  of  number.  After  this  Search 
expresses  his  anxiety  to  be  introduced  to  some  of  the 
Apostles  ;  but  learning  that  they  have  all  been  "  advanced," 
he  desires  to  have  speech  with  some  of  the  famous  moderns 
instead.  Being  new-comers,  however,  most  of  these  were 
travelling  about,  after  the  fashion  of  young  gentlemen  on  the 
earth  below,  to  finish  their  education. 

"  Newton  is  run  after  the  great  comet  that  appeared  in  1685,  to 
try  the  justice  of  his  calculations  upon  its  trajectory.  Huygens  has 
undertaken  a  longer  journey,  to  measure  the  distance,  magnitude,  and 
brightness  of  the  Dog-star.     Theory  Burnet  set  out  upon  a  visit  to 

229 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

Jupiter,  as  being  an  earth  in  its  antediluvian  state.  He  wants  to  peep 
into  the  great  hole  astronomers  observe  there,  in  hopes  of  seeing  the 
great  abyss  beneath,  and  remarking  how  the  earth  stands  in  the  water 
and  out  of  the  water.  He  then  goes  to  Saturn,  to  examine  whether  the 
ring  be  not  a  part  of  the  paradisiacal  crust  not  yet  broken  in.  Whiston 
is  engaged  in  a  wild-goose  chase  among  all  the  Comets,  to  find  which  of 
them  will  bring  on  the  conflagration,  that  he  may  calculate  precisely  in 
what  year  the  Millennium  begins,  wherein  he  is  to  be  chief  Messenger, 
Archbishop  Metropolitan,  and  Primate  of  all  the  new  earth." 

Search  has,  therefore,  to  be  satisfied  with  visiting  some 
of  the  small  fry,  inckiding  the  famous  German  professor 
Stahl,  who,  being  of  a  heavy  and  phlegmatic  temperament, 
has  not  yet  learned  the  use  of  his  vehicular  legs,  and  who 
treats  us  to  a  long  discussion  of  a  particularly  uninteresting 
character. 

After  having  thus  acquired  a  general  knowledge  of  the 
"  vehicular  state,"  Search  learns  that  he  is  to  be  "  advanced  " ; 
and,  amidst  the  congratulations  of  all  around  him,  his 
"vehicle"  bursts,  and  he  is  absorbed  into  the  mundane 
soul. 

"  As  upon  a  man  awaking  in  the  morning  out  of  sleep,  the  dreams 
and  visions  of  the  night  vanish  away,  his  senses,  which  had  been  kept 
stupefied,  throw  open  their  windows,  his  activity,  that  had  lain  sus- 
pended, returns,  he  resumes  the  command  of  his  limbs,  recovers  his 
ideas  and  understanding,  and  goes  on  with  the  schemes  and  occupations 
he  had  beeun  the  day  before :  so,  upon  my  absorption,  I  found  myself, 
not  translated  into  another  species  of  creature,  but  restored  to  myself 
again.  I  had  the  perfect  command  of  my  limbs,  and  their  motions 
were  familiar  to  me,  I  had  that  knowledge  and  judgment  which  is  the 
result  of  experience.  My  body  was  immense,  yet  I  could  manage  it 
without  trouble,  my  understanding  extensive,  yet  without  confusion  or 
perplexity  :  for  the  material  universe  was  my  body,  the  several  systems 
my  limbs,  the  subtle  fluids  my  circulating  juices,  and  the  face  of  nature 
my  sensory.  In  that  sensory  I  discerned  all  science  and  wisdom  to 
direct  me  in  the  application  of  my  powers,  which  were  vigorous  and 
mighty,  extending  to  every  member  and  fibre  of  my  vast  composition. 
I  had  no  external  object  to  look  upon,  nor  external  subject  to  act  upon  ; 
yet  found  an  inexhaustible  variety  to  employ  my  large  thoughts,  and 
unwearied  activity  within  myself.  I  rolled  the  bulky  planets  in  their 
courses,  and  held  them  down  to  their  orbits  by  my  strong  attraction. 

230 


ABRAHAM   TUCKER 

I  pressed  heavy  bodies  to  the  earth,  squeezed  together  the  particles  of 
metals  in  firm  cohesion,  and  darted  beams  of  light  through  the  expanse 
of  innumerable  heavens.  I  beheld  the  affairs  of  nien,  discovered  all 
their  springs  of  action,  and  knew  how  to  set  both  them  and  the 
courses  of  events  so  as  to  guide  the  wheels  of  fortune  with  unerring 
certainty." 

We  must  not  follow  Search  in  his  further  experiences  as  a 
part  of  the  mundane  soul,  for  they  occupy  twenty  pages  or 
more,  all  recited  in  a  strainof  serious  and  sustained  eloquence 
and  incapable  of  abstract  or  abridgment.  In  the  end  an 
angel  carries  him  back  and  replaces  him  in  his  "  vehicle," 
whereupon  he  is  promptly  informed  that  day  has  broken  on 
the  earth,  and  that  if  he  does  not  speedily  return  to  his  body, 
his  family,  finding  no  sensation  in  it,  will  probably  send  for 
the  doctors  and  surgeons  to  blister  and  scarify  him  all  over. 
Guided  by  the  friendly  Locke,  therefore,  he  descends  to 
earth,  and  passes  into  his  own  house  through  the  pores  of  the 
tiles  and  timbers. 

"  We  clomb  a  high  pinnacle  that  appeared  like  the  Peak  of  Teneriffe, 
tapering  up  to  the  top,  where  was  a  spacious  flat  big  enough  for  five 
hundred  of  us  to  have  danced  a  Lancashire  hornpipe.  '  What  are  we 
got  upon  now  ?  '  says  I. — '  The  point  of  a  pin,'  says  he,  '  sticking  out  of 
your  pillow.  But  look  up  over  your  head  and  all  about  ye.' — '  I  used 
to  think,'  quoth  I,  '  the  world  was  round  ;  but  this  is  a  square  world.' — 
'  It  is  your  bed,'  says  he,  'the  curtains  drawn  round  except  one  place 
at  the  feet.' — '  Good  lack  I '  says  I,  '  what  fools  mankind  are  to  terrify 
themselves  with  notions  of  ghosts  throwing  open  their  curtains  and 
staring  at  them  with  saucer  eyes  !  A  million  of  us  could  not  stir  those 
heavy  textures,  nor  reflect  corpuscles  of  light  enow  to  make  the  appari- 
tion of  a  flea.  But  what  is  that  huge  mountain  over  against  us,  with 
a  monstrous  gaping  chasm  on  one  side,  and  a  great  ridge  turned  this 
way,  from  whence  issue  black  streams  of  fuliginous  vapour  ? ' — '  That,' 
says  he,  'is  your  head,  mouth,  and  nose.' — '  Surprising,'  says  I,  '  I  have 
lain  so  many  years,  like  another  Enceladus,  under  that  smoking  Etna, 
How  could  I  help  being  suffocated  with  that  load  of  filth  upon  my 
lungs?'" 

He  is  reluctant  to  return  to  so  disgusting  a  habitation,  but 
Locke  persuades  him ;  he  casts  himself  into  the  shape  of  one  of 
"Lewenhoek's"  animalcules,  passes  through  one  of  the  pores 

231 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

of  the   head,  the  vision  ends,  and   anon  he  awakes  in  the 
commonplace  workaday  world. 

The  foregoing  is  a  brief  and  necessarily  inadequate  sum- 
mary of  Tucker's  hypothetical  representation  of  a  future  life, 
which  is  worked  out  in  elaborate  detail  in  something  over 
three  hundred  pages  of  his  third  volume.    It  is  not  to  be  taken 
as  a  mere  play  of  humorous  fancy.      Tucker  was  a  serious 
and  devout  thinker,  and  the  intellectual  system  of  the  universe 
which  he  had  worked  out  for  himself  in  his  solitary  cogita- 
tions was  intended  to  satisfy  the  moral  and  religious  instincts 
of  a  candid  and  inquiring  mind.     His  method  of  presentment 
he  expressly  states  to  have  been  deliberately  adopted  out  of 
consideration  for  an  infirmity  of  his  compatriots,   who  are 
**  too  squeamish  in  their  taste  and  fonder  of  the  toothsome 
than  the  wholesome."     It  is  on  this  account,  he  says,  that  he 
has  likened  the  human  machine  sometimes  to  a  mill,  some- 
times to  a  study  hung  round   with  bells,   sometimes   to  a 
chamber  organ  ;  that  he  has  produced  a  chess-board  to  prove 
that  the  sphere  of  a  spirit's  presence  is  wide  enough  to  con- 
tain sixty-four  particles  of  matter,  computed   the  corpuscles 
of  light  in  a  grain  of  wax,  introduced  Hatchet  the  carpenter 
or  Mrs.  Cook  and  her  plum-pudding  into  the  most  meta- 
physical of  his  discourses,  and  brought  in  a  cat  to  assist  in 
an  optical  experiment.      He  has  observed    that    books   are 
usually  recommended,  not  because  they  are  instructive,  but 
because  they  are  entertaining;  and  he  only  hopes  his  readers 
will   not   frustrate    his   good    intentions    by   doing   like   the 
children  when  one  sweetens  a  pill  for  them,  who  suck  off  the 
sugar  and  spit  out  the  medicine.      Many  of  his  comparisons 
and    illustrations    are    far    from    what    the    reader    would 
expect   in    a    grave    metaphysico-theological    treatise,    and 
are   perhaps   all    the    more    effective   on    account    of   their 
unexpectedness.     For  instance,  in  his  chapter  on  the  Divine 
Purity  he  effectually  disposes  of  the  extravagance  of  certain 
enthusiasts  who  exhort  us  literally  to  have   God  always  in 
our   thoughts,  and    to  do    every   action    of    our    lives    with 

232 


ABRAHAM  TUCKER 

conscious  intention  to  please  Him,  with  the  following  quaint 
observation  : — 

"  If  every  time  we  shifted,  or  washed  our  hands,  or  cut  our  corns,  or 
did  other  things  I  do  not  care  to  name,  we  were  to  do  them  with  direct 
attention  to  please  him,  it  would  be  more  likely  to  debase  and  con- 
taminate than  ennoble  and  sanctify  our  minds ;  to  degrade  him  below 
ourselves,  than  raise  us  to  a  nearer  resemblance  with  him." 

And  similarly,  in  his  chapter  on  the  Divine  Majesty,  he  thus 
comments  on  an  objectionable  habit  some  people  have  of 
attributing  many  of  the  little  trivial  and  insignificant 
accidents  of  their  lives  to  the  direct  interposition  of  Provi- 
dence : — 

"  A  grain  of  dust  falling  in  a  man's  eye  while  fighting,  may  prove  his 
destruction :  a  few  particles  of  rust  upon  a  firelock,  or  of  damp  in  the 
pan,  may  save  a  hfe  ;  a  wasp  missing  his  hold  in  crawling  up  the  sides 
of  a  pot,  may  fall  in,  to  be  drank  by  one  whom  he  shall  sting  to  death  ; 
a  young  lady  by  a  lucky  assortment  of  her  ribands,  may  procure  entrance 
into  a  family  where  she  shall  become  the  mother  of  heroes ;  yet  we 
cannot  without  impiety  imagine  God  following  the  single  atoms  of 
terrene  or  aqueous  matter  as  they  float  about  in  the  air,  watching  his 
opportunity  to  trip  up  the  feet  of  a  crawling  insect,  or  attending  a  giddy 
girl  when  she  adjusts  her  dress  at  the  toilet.  We  know,  both  from 
reason  and  authority  that  of  two  sparrows  that  are  sold  for  a  farthing, 
not  one  falleth  to  the  ground  without  our  heavenly  Father,  and  the 
hairs  of  our  head  are  all  numbered :  yet  what  pious  man,  if  upon 
combing  his  head  he  meets  with  a  tangle  that  tears  off  two  or  three 
hairs,  or  if  a  cat  should  happen  to  catch  his  favourite  sparrow,  would 
ascribe  these  catastrophes  to  the  hand  of  Providence  ?  Who  would 
not  be  shocked  at  the  profaneness  of  one  who,  upon  finding  only  the 
tail  of  a  mouse  in  his  trap,  or  upon  losing  a  flea  that  he  had  hunted 
after,  should  say  it  was  the  Will  of  God  they  should  escape  ?  " 

Sometimes,  however,  his  peculiar  humour  prompts  him  to 
the  use  of  highly  eccentric  comparisons  and  illustrations,  for 
which  the  sugar-coating  of  a  pill  is  by  no  means  an  appro- 
priate simile.  In  his  chapter  on  Divine  Services,  for 
example,  he  gives  a  striking  example  of  the  fact  that,  as  he 
himself  confesses,  many  ideas  had  come  by  familiarity  to 
lie  easy  and  inoffensive  in  his  mind  which  had  before  appeared 
uncouth  and  disturbing,  and  which  might  still  appear  so  to 

233 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

other  people  for  in  the  course  of  an  argument  in  favour 
of  the  appointment  of  particular  times  and  the  appropriation 
of  special  places  for  divine  worship,  because  this  cannot  as 
a  rule  be  done  with  proper  piety  in  all  places  indiscriminately, 
he  admits  that  there  may  be  exceptions  to  the  rule,  and 
rather  startles  the  reader  by  supplying  the  following 
extremely  unconventional  instance  : — 

"  Suppose  a  man  seized  with  a  distemper  that  will  allow  nothing  to 
pass  through  him  ;  he  has  tried  several  remedies  in  vain,  and  given 
himself  over  :  if  at  last  he  finds  them  begin  to  take  effect,  I  conceive  he 
may  offer  as  pure  and  acceptable  a  thanksgiving  from  his  close-stool,  as 
he  ever  did  from  a  hassock  in  his  pew." 

After  Tucker  had  gone  as  far  as  the  unaided  light  of 
nature  would  carry  him,  his  next  proceeding  was  to  compare 
the  discoveries  so  made  with  the  doctrines  of  revealed 
religion.  But  as  he  succeeds  in  making  the  dogmas  of  the 
Church  of  England  harmonise  with  his  own  system  of  ethics 
and  natural  religion  only  by  a  personal  and  peculiar  inter- 
pretation, which  often  comes  perilously  near  to  explaining 
them  away,  we  need  not  follow  him  throughout  this  operation. 
As  might  quite  naturally  be  expected  from  a  thinker  of  his 
temperament,  he  calmly  propounds  not  a  few  heresies  of  his 
own.  In  his  chapter  on  Redemption,  after  pointing  out 
how  many  children  there  are  in  the  midst  of  Christendom 
who  never  arrive  at  an  age  to  understand  the  religion  of 
their  country,  how  many  grown  persons  there  are  bred  up 
in  such  ignorance  that  they  can  never  attain  to  a  just  notion 
of  it,  how  many  there  are  who  have  rejected  it — and  small 
blame  to  them — because  of  its  having  been  presented  to 
them  by  ignorant  fanatics  in  a  corrupt  and  unacceptable 
form,  he  goes  on  to  assert  with  quiet  dogmatism  that,  if 
Christ  died  for  all  men,  all  these,  having  had  no  real 
opportunity  of  embracing  the  gracious  offer,  "  must "  be 
afforded  it  "elsewhere."  He  could  not  bring  himself 
to  believe  in  the  eternity  of  future  punishment,  and  held 
that  doctrine  not  only  to  have    no   foundation    in  human 

234 


ABRAHAM   TUCKER 

reason,  but  to  be  unwarranted  by  Scripture ;  and  he  was 
much  more  favourably  disposed  towards  the  Roman  Catholic 
idea  of  purgatory.  He  could  see  "  no  difference  between  a 
true  member  of  Christ  and  a  good  citizen  of  the  world 
other  than  their  method  of  attaining  those  characters  "  ;  and 
he  held  that  if  we  could  not  make  a  man  a  good  Christian 
we  should  try  to  make  him  a  good  Heathen,  or  a  good  Jew, 
or  a  good  Freethinker.  All  which  undoubtedly  shows 
sound  common-sense  and  abundant  charity,  but  is  several 
removes  from  the  strict  orthodoxy  either  of  his  eighteenth  or 
of  our  twentieth  century.  Tucker  punctiliously  attended 
the  services  of  the  Church  both  in  London  and  in  his 
country  village,  but  one  suspects  he  would  often  have  liked 
the  parson  to  come  down  from  the  pulpit  and  let  him  preach 
the  sermon.  This  being  out  of  the  question,  however,  he 
would  go  home  and  write  a  counterblast  to  what  he  had 
heard,  in  the  following  fashion  : — 

"  Neither  can  anybody  tell  precisely  of  what  kind  the  enjoyments  of 
another  life  shall  consist.  But  those  who  go  about  to  paint  them  by 
figurative  representations  seem  not  always  to  have  chosen  such  as  are 
proper  to  strike  upon  the  imagination.  They  tell  us  the  righteous  shall 
live  exempt  from  all  pain,  labour,  hardship,  oppression,  infirmity,  or  dis- 
appointment, and  all  tears  shall  be  wiped  from  their  eyes.  So  far  it 
is  well :  but  this  is  only  a  negative  happiness,  such  as  may  be  found  in 
annihilation  :  but  what  actual  enjoyment  are  they  to  have  ?  Why,  they 
shall  sing  psalms  all  day  long  and  every  day.  This  may  be  vast  pleasure, 
for  aught  I  know,  to  a  mind  rightly  tuned,  but  as  our  minds  are  strung 
at  present,  I  believe  there  is  scarce  anybody  who  would  not  be  tired  of 
singing  psalms  before  half  the  day  was  out,  or  after  having  sung  out  the 
whole  week,  would  have  much  stomach  to  sing  again  on  Sunday. 

"  But  then  they  shall  sit  in  white  robes,  with  crowns  on  their  heads, 
and  all  be  kings.  This  may  weigh  much  with  such  as  are  fond  of  fine 
clothes,  and  would  be  prodigiously  delighted  to  hear  themselves  called 
'  Your  Majesty.'  But  if  we  are  all  to  be  kings,  where  are  your  subjects  ? 
Oh !  the  toils  of  government  would  be  troublesome,  but  we  shall  be 
called  to  the  bench  to  sit  as  assessors  in  judging  the  wicked,  and  triumph 
over  all  our  enemies.  This  may  have  charms  with  the  Methodists,  and 
others  of  an  ill-natured  religion :  but  for  my  part,  I  should  esteem  the 
condemnation  of  malefactors  a  burden  rather  than  an  amusement :  I 
never  sign  a  mittimus  to  the  house  of  correction,  but  had  much  rather 

235 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

it  were  done  by  somebody  else  ;  and  if  I  had  any  enemies,  I  think  I  should 
not  wish  to  insult  and  triumph  over  them,  or  if  I  did  take  vengeance 
upon  them,  should  do  it  as  a  matter  of  necessity,  not  of  gratification. 
Besides,  all  this  will  furnish  employment  only  for  the  day  of  judgment : 
when  that  day  is  ended,  there  will  be  nothing  further  to  do. 

"  Well,  but  their  enjoyment  of  the  beatific  vision  will  not  cease.  I 
can  imagine  there  may  be  an  extreme  delight  in  the  full  and  clear 
display  of  the  Divine  Attributes,  particularly  that  of  goodness:  for  I 
have  experienced  a  proportionate  degree  of  satisfaction  in  the  contem- 
plation, so  far  as  I  have  been  able  to  comprehend  them.  But  this  is 
only  in  my  retirements,  when  I  can  bring  my  thoughts  to  a  proper  pitch 
by  long  and  careful  meditation  :  when  I  go  abroad  into  the  world  upon 
my  common  transactions,  I  do  not  find  this  idea  attend  me  in  full 
vigour  and  complexion  ;  and  believe  those  who  want  incitements  most 
will  be  scarce  feebly  touched  with  the  hope  of  seeing  God  as  he  is. 
Besides,  as  I  have  powers  of  action  as  well  as  of  reflection,  I  cannot 
readily  conceive  that  in  a  state  of  bliss  one  of  them  should  remain 
useless,  nor  how  enjoyment  can  be  complete  which  rests  in  speculation 
alone.  In  short,  all  propounded  to  us  in  the  common  harangues  on 
this  subject  seems  to  be  no  more  than  an  Epicurean  heaven,  a  monastic 
happiness,  an  undisturbed  pious  idleness. 

"  But  give  me  for  my  incitements,  a  life  of  activity  and  business  ;  a 
constant  succession  of  purposes  worthy  a  reasonable  creature's  pursuit ; 
unwearied  vigour  of  mind  ;  instruments  obedient  to  command  ;  exemp- 
tion from  passion,  which  might  lead  me  astray ;  unsatiating  desires  of 
the  noble  and  generous  kind  ;  clearness  of  judgment  to  secure  me 
against  mistake  or  disappointment ;  company  of  persons  ready  to  assist 
me  with  their  lights  and  their  helping  hand,  so  that  we  may  join  together 
with  perfect  harmony  in  that  best  of  services,  the  exercise  of  universal 
charity,  in  administering  the  laws  of  God  and  executing  his  commands. 
And  if  I  have  therewith  a  largeness  of  understanding,  these  occupations 
need  not  hinder  but  that,  while  busied  in  them,  I  may  feast  upon  the 
contemplation  of  whatever  glorious  objects  shall  be  afforded  me,  either 
in  the  works  of  nature  or  the  Author  and  Contriver  of  them. 

"  Some  Religions  propound  rewards  alluring  enough  to  human  sense. 
A  Mahometan  paradise  may  suit  very  well  with  Asiatic  luxury  :  but  then 
such  incitements  are  worse  than  none,  as  being  mischievous  to  practice. 
For  as  one  is  naturally  inclined  to  inure  oneself  to  the  way  of  living 
one  expects  to  follow,  they  are  better  calculated  to  lead  into  the  road 
of  destruction  than  of  happiness.  Nor  are  our  modern  enthusiasts  less 
blameable  iu  flattering  their  mob  with  the  privilege  of  insulting  and 
ill-using  their  betters :  for  of  the  two,  a  man  is  not  drawn  so  far  aside 
from  the  spirit  of  piety  by  the  thought  of  possessing  a  seraglio  of 
beautiful  wenches,  as  of  having  a  Lord  or  a  Bishop  bound  hand  and 
foot  for  hiui  to  kick  and  cuff  about  as  he  pleases." 

236 


ABRAHAM   TUCKER 

Tucker  saw  clearly  enough  a  century  and  a  half  ago  what 
is  now  only  slowly  percolating  from  anthropology  into 
theology,  viz.,  that  we  are  all  idolaters,  and  that  man  makes 
God  in  his  own  image.  He  saw,  too,  not  only  that  the 
process  is  inevitable,  but  that  it  may  be  beneficial  instead  of 
harmful,  provided  that  we,  keep  our  eidolon  clear  of  all 
avoidable  grossness  and  impurity.  After  his  manner,  he 
illustrates  from  his  own  personal  experience : — 

"  I  can  just  remember  when  the  women  first  taught  me  to  say  my 
prayers.  I  used  to  have  the  idea  of  a  venerable  old  man,  of  a  composed, 
benign  countenance,  with  his  own  hair  "  [gentlemen  in  those  days  wore 
wigs],  "  clad  in  a  morning  gown  of  a  grave-coloured  flowered  damask, 
pitting  in  an  elbow  chair.  I  am  not  disturbed  at  the  grossness  of  my 
infant  theology,  it  being  the  best  I  could  then  entertain  :  for  I  was  then 
much  about  as  wise  as  Epicurus,  having  no  conception  of  sense  or 
authority  possible, out  of  a  human  form.  And  perhaps  the  time  will 
come  when,  if  I  can  look  back  upon  my  present  thoughts,  I  may  find 
the  most  elevated  of  them  as  unworthy  of  their  object  as  I  now  think 
the  old  man  in  the  elbow  chair." 

Even  in  our  day  we  sometimes  hear  people  talk  as  though 
they  imagined  not  only  the  whole  round  world  and  all  that 
therein  is,  but  even  the  whole  universe,  to  have  been  made 
for  man.  Tucker  points  out  the  enormous  wastefulness  and 
extravagance  implied  in  any  such  supposition,  and  argues 
that  Providence  has  evidently  much  else  to  take  care  of  in 
addition  to  ourselves. 

"  Man  has  no  further  concern  with  this  earth  than  a  few  fathom 
under  his  feet :  was  then  the  whole  solid  globe  beneath  made  only  for 
a  foundation  to  support  the  slender  shell  he  treads  upon  ?  Do  the 
magnetic  effluvia  course  incessantly  over  land  and  sea,  only  to  turn 
here  and  there  a  mariner's  compass  ?  Are  those  immense  bodies  the 
fixed  stars  hung  up  for  nothing  but  to  twinkle  in  our  eyes  by  night,  or 
find  employment  for  a  few  astronomers  ?  Is  that  prodigious  effusion 
of  light  darted  every  way  throughout  the  expanse  of  heaven  for  no 
other  purpose  than  to  enlighten  and  cherish  two  or  three  little  planets  ? 
Does  the  vast  profundity  of  space  contain  no  more  inhabitants  than  we  see 
crawling  about  us,  or  may  conjecture  abiding  on  other  earths  like  ours  ? 
Surely  he  must  have  an  overweening  conceit  of  man's  importance,  who 
can  imagine  this  stupendous  frame  of  the  Universe  fabricated  for  him 
alone:  and  he  must  be  too  partial  an  admirer  of  visible  nature,  or 

237 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

entertain  too  mean  an  opinion  of  infinite  wisdom,  that  can  persuade 
himself  things  could  not  have  been  contrived  better  for  the  accommo- 
dation and  happiness  of  man,  had  that  been  the  sole  object  of  Divine 
attention." 

Man  is  in  the  habit  of  thinking  that,  at  any  rate,  all  the 
living  creatures  he  sees  around  him  were  made  for  his  special 
use  and  benefit  ;  but,  says  our  humorous  philosopher,  it 
might  as  well  be  said  that  he  was  made  for  the  special  use 
and  benefit  of  other  creatures.  Not  only  does  he  employ 
his  reason  and  his  care  to  provide  for  such  animals  as  are 
obviously  subservient  to  his  uses — the  sheep  and  oxen  for 
which  he  finds  pasture,  the  horse  which  receives  provender 
and  tendance  at  his  hands,  the  mastiff  and  the  spaniel  which 
earn  their  wages  in  his  service — but  predatory  birds  eat  the 
grain  he  sows,  predatory  mice  share  in  the  provisions  for  his 
table,  the  parasitic  flea  and  gnat  regale  on  his  blood,  the 
harvest-bug  burrows  in  his  flesh,  and  his  carcase  breeds  and 
nourishes  the  worm  and  the  maggot.  He  is  also  in  the 
habit  of  thinking  that  his  "  Godlike  "  intellect  is  capable  of 
solving  the  riddle  of  the  universe,  yet  his  conception  of  it 
may  be  as  imperfect  as  is  entertained  by  the  meanest  of 
these.  Tucker  occasionally  amused  himself  in  a  vacant 
hour,  he  tells  us,  with  imagining  what  ideas  the  brute 
creation  would  entertain  of  our  transactions  supposing  them 
to  be  endowed  with  understanding  and  reflection  similar 
to  ours.  As  they  have  little  intercourse  with  us  and  no 
means  of  acquiring  information  from  our  speech  or  writings, 
it  appears  that  they  could  have  no  conception  of  our  politics, 
commerce,  mechanics,  mathematics,  rhetoric,  fashion,  and 
other  methods  of  employing  our  time,  and  would  consequently 
find  our  proceedings  for  the  most  part  quite  unaccountable. 
A  lively  story  is  then  introduced  to  show  by  implication 
that  a  like  incapacity  hampers  man  in  his  cosmical 
speculations: — 

"  I  have  heard  a  story  of  some  very  valuable  jewel  or  piece  of  plate 
in  a  house  having  been  lost  in  such  a  manner  as  to  make  it  certain  some 

23« 


ABRAHAM   TUCKER 

of  the  family  had  taken  it,  but  no  suspicion  could  be  fastened  upon  any 
particular  person,  for  they  all  denied  any  knowledge  of  the  matter.  The 
vicar  was  called  in  to  examine  them,  but  being  able  to  get  nothing  out 
by  his  interrogatories,  he  engaged  to  discover  the  thief  by  art  magic  : 
for  he  had  a  cock  among  his  poultry  of  wonderful  sagacity,  that  being 
rightly  prepared  and  situated,  would  know  the  touch  of  a  light-fingered 
person  in  the  dark  ;  so  he  fetched  the  cock,  tied  down  upon  a  nest  of 
hay  in  a  basket,  which  was  placed  at  the  further  end  of  a  darkened 
room ;  the  servants  were  ordered  to  go  in  one  by  one  and  stroke  the 
back  of  the  cock,  who  upon  feeling  the  delinquent  would  instantly  crow. 
They  went  in  each  of  them  alone  and  returned,  but  still  the  cock  did 
not  crow.  Our  conjuror  seemed  surprised,  for  he  said  he  never  knew 
the  cock  fail  before,  and  surely  they  had  not  all  touched  him.  Yes, 
indeed,  and  indeed,  they  had.  '  Pray,'  says  he,  'let's  see  your  hands.' 
Upon  turning  them  up,  the  palms  of  all  except  one  were  found  as  black 
as  the  chimney-stock,  for  he  had  besmeared  the  cock's  back  with  grease 
and  lampblack,  of  which  those  who  were  conscious  of  their  innocence 
had  taken  a  strong  impression  by  giving  a  hearty  rub,  but  the  guilty 
person,  though  having  no  great  faith  in  the  cock's  virtue,  yet  not 
knowing  what  tricks  your  learned  man  may  play,  thought  it  safest  not 
to  venture,  especially  as  his  word  must  be  taken,  there  being  no  witness 
in  the  room  with  him  to  see  how  he  behaved. 

"  Now  imagine  the  parson's  poultry  possessing  as  large  a  share  of 
the  rational  faculty  as  you  please,  they  will  never  be  able  to  account 
for  these  ceremonies  undergone  by  the  cock  :  but  when  he  got  home 
to  relate  his  adventures,  if  there  were  any  free-thinking  cockerills  in 
the  henroost,  they  would  treat  it  as  an  idle,  incredible  tale  ;  for  there 
would  be  no  use  nor  purpose  in  daubing  his  back,  tying  him  in  a 
basket,  shutting  him  up  in  a  dark  room,  and  sending  so  many  different 
people  to  rub  him  over.  'Certainly,'  they  say,  'our  daddy  begins  to 
doat,  and  vents  his  dreams  for  real  facts ;  or  else  has  been  perching 
carelessly  upon  the  edge  of  a  tub  until  he  fell  backwards  into  some 
filthy  stuff  within  it,  and  now  would  impose  this  invention  upon  the 
credulous  vulgar  among  the  chicken  kind,  to  set  us  a  pecking  away  the 
grease  from  his  feathers,  in  hopes  we  shall  foul  our  bills  or  spoil  our 
stomachs  so  that  we  cannot  eat,  and  then  he  will  have  all  our  barley 
to  himself.' " 

Tucker's  benevolent  disposition  showed  itself  strongly  in 
his  love  of  animals,  whom  he  called  "  our  younger  brethren 
of  the  brutal  species."  Those  who  had  no  feelings  of 
tenderness  and  humanity  for  animals,  he  held,  must  neces- 
sarily be  of  a  hard  and  callous  nature,  inhuman  and 
indifferent  to  the  distresses  of  their  own  species.     He  objected 

239 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

to  men  calling  themselves  the  lords  of  creation,  at  any  rate 
whenever  the  phrase  seemed  to  imply  that  the  lords  looked 
down  with  contempt  upon  all  inferior  animals    and  would 
think   it  a  disparagement  of  their  own  dignity  to  suppose 
that  the  others  might  ever  be  raised  to  their  level.     It  was 
both  orthodox  and  fashionable,   he  admitted  (and  it  is  so 
still),  to  believe  that  death  means  annihilation  to  the  brutes, 
and  that  they  were  created  solely  for  man's  uses,  or  misuses, 
without  the  least  regard  to  any   benefit  or  pleasure  their 
existence  might  produce  to  themselves.     But  when  anybody 
told  him  it  was  ridiculous  and  inconceivable  that  such  an 
abject  condition  could  be  the  prelude    to    a   more  exalted 
state,  he  would  ask  whether  the  condition  of  some  of  us, 
who  so  confidently  expect  to  become  angels,  is  not  almost 
as   abject,  whether   a   human  infant  when  it  lies  sleeping, 
squalling,  or  spewing  in  its  cradle  has  much  more  sense  and 
intelligence  than  a  puppy,   and    whether    many   thousands 
of  our  species  do  not  pass  out  of  this  world  without  ever 
attaining  a  much  greater  degree  of  intellectual  or  spiritual 
dignity.       In  the  chapter  headed  "  Divine  Economy,"  in  the 
sixth    volume  of  his  treatise,   there    is  a   passage   on    this 
subject,  which  is  so  interesting  in  itself  and  so  characteristic 
of  the  writer  that,  notwithstanding  its  length,  it  must   be 
transcribed  verbatim  : — 

"  Upon  occasion  of  the  divine  care  extending  to  the  smallest  things, 
I  shall  venture  to  put  in  a  word  on  behalf  of  our  younger  brethren  of  the 
brute  species  :  yet  it  is  with  fear  and  trepidation,  lest  I  should  offend 
the  delicacy  of  our  imperial  race,  who  may  think  it  treason  against  their 
high  pre-eminence  and  dignity  to  raise  a  doubt  of  their  engrossing  the 
sole  care  of  Heaven.  I  shall  not  allege  that  Nature  has  provided  the 
animals  with  accommodations  for  breeding,  for  harbouring,  for  feeding  ; 
because  it  will  be  said  these  were  given  for  our  sakes,  to  fit  them  for 
our  services.  But  let  it  be  considered  that  by  these  very  services  they 
become  remotely  instrumental  to  our  salvation  :  for  how  could  the 
Divine  or  the  Philosopher  perform  the  part  allotted  him  in  carrying  on 
that  great  work,  without  the  sustenance,  the  clothing,  the  other  con- 
veniences, he  draws  from  the  irrational  tribes  ?  or  at  least  if  he  could, 
it  is  a  fact  that  he  does  not,  and  therefore  something  is  owing  to  them 

240 


ABRAHAM   TUCKER 

for  the  help  they  give  him  in  his  principal  concern.  Besides,  it  has 
been  shown  in  the  foregoing  pages  that  the  plan  of  Providence  for  per- 
fecting human  nature  does  not  stand  confined  to  the  operations  of 
Religion  and  Philosophy,  for  the  polity  of  nations,  the  characters  and 
transactions  of  the  people,  have  their  share  in  the  work  :  and  the  com- 
merce, manufactures,  and  employments  influencing  these  things,  derive 
many  of  their  materials  and  receive  much  of  their  assistance  from  the 
inferior  creatures. 

"  Then  for  the  orthodox,  with  whom  I  am  likely  to  have  somewhat 
more  difficulty  upon  this  subject  than  with  the  reasoner,  I  beg  them  to 
consider  that  many  lambs,  goats,  and  doves,  have  by  express  command 
of  God  been  slaughtered  for  atonements  and  sacrifices,  and  made  sub- 
servient to  the  uses  of  Religion.  Since  then,  as  well  by  his  special 
injunction  as  by  his  ordinary  providence,  he  calls  upon  the  creatures 
for  their  labours,  their  sufferings,  and  their  lives,  in  the  progress  of  his 
great  work  of  the  Redemption,  why  should  we  think  it  an  impeachment 
of  his  Equity  if  he  assigns  them  wages  for  all  they  undergo  in  this 
important  s-srvice  ?  or  an  impeachment  of  his  Power  and  of  his  Wisdom 
if  such  wages  accrue  to  them  by  certain  stated  laws  of  universal  Nature 
running  through  both  Worlds  ? 

"  In  what  manner  the  compensation  is  operated  would  be  needless 
and  impossible  to  ascertain  :  perhaps  they  stand  only  one  stage  below 
us  in  the  journey  through  matter,  and  as  we  hope  to  rise  from  sensitivo- 
rational  creatures  to  purely  rational,  so  they  may  be  advanced  to 
sensitivo-rational.  And  when  our  nature  is  perfected,  we  may  be 
employed  to  act  as  guardian  angels  for  assisting  them  in  the  improve- 
ment of  their  nt.  •  faculties,  becoming  lords  and  not  tyrants  of  our  new 
world,  and  exercis  ng  government  by  employing  our  superior  skill  and 
power  for  the  benefit  of  the  governed  :  by  which  way  may  be  compre- 
hended how  they  may  have  an  interest  of  their  own  in  everything 
relative  to  the  forwarding  our  Redemption.  Yet  it  is  not  necessary 
they  must  have  bodies  shaped,  limbed,  and  sized,  exactly  like  ours  ;  for 
the  treasures  of  wisdom  are  not  so  scanty  as  that  we  should  pronounce 
with  Epicurus,  there  can  be  no  spice  of  reason  or  reflection  except  in 
a  human  figure,  and  upon  the  surface  of  an  Earth  circumstanced  just 
like  this  we  inhabit. 

"  No  doubt  it  will  appear  a  wild  and  absurd  imagination  to  fancy  that 
a  dog  can  ever  be  made  to  think  and  reason  like  a  man,  and  so  indeed 
it  may  be  while  you  take  your  idea  of  the  creature  from  his  hairy  hide, 
his  long  tail,  his  lolling  tongue,  and  gross  organs  of  sense  ;  but  it  is  as 
absurd  to  suppose  you  can  ever  teach  a  sucking  child  the  mathematics, 
yet  the  child  may  grow  to  be  a  man,  and  then  become  capable  of  the 
sciences.  Nor  is  it  easy  to  conceive  how  a  man,  while  consisting  of  an 
unwieldy  body,  with  a  variety  of  discordant  humours  circulating  therein, 
can  become  purely  rational,  perfectly  happy,  secure  from  all  dangers, 

N.D.  241  R 


f^ 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

proof  against  all  temptations  ;  yet  we  hope  that  man  shall  one  day  rise 
to  the  condition  of  an  Angel :  then  by  Man  must  not  be  understood  his 
whole  composition,  but  some  internal  part,  which  when  disjoined  from 
the  rest,  will  still  continue  to  be  him  :  and  how  know  we  what  internal 
part  may  belong  to  other  animals,  capable  of  higher  faculties  than  they 
now  can  exercise  ?  When  the  caterpillar  changes  into  a  butterfly,  we 
easily  apprehend  it  to  be  the  same  creature,  with  larger  powers  than  it 
had  before,  and  if  we  knew  the  worm  had  passed  its  time  in  uneasiness, 
but  the  fly  in  a  greater  degree  of  pleasure,  we  should  acknowledge  the 
enjoyments  of  the  one  a  compensation  for  the  troubles  of  the  other,  both 
being  numerically  the  same. 

"  But  when  the  butterfly  dies,  we  see  no  chrysalis  left  behind,  yet  we 
are  not  to  think  everything  absolutely  lost  that  is  gone  beyond  the  reach 
of  our  senses :  there  may  still  remain  an  imperceptible  chrysalis,  from 
whence  will  issue  another  fly  with  powers  superior  to  the  former ;  and 
while  the  same  perceptive  individual  passes  through  all  these  changes, 
it  will  continue  the  same  creature,  notwithstanding  ever  so  many  altera- 
tions in  the  external  form  and  substance.  If  you  grant  but  that  a  dog 
feels  me  when  I  pinch  him  by  the  tail,  this  is  enough  to  prove  that  he 
has  a  personality,  and  that  what  feels  the  pinch  is  an  individual ;  for 
perceptivity  cannot  belong  to  a  compound,  any  otherwise  than  as  the 
other  component  parts  may  serve  for  channels  of  conveyance  to  some 
one  which  receives  the  conveyance  entire  ;  and  in  whatever  different 
compounds  this  individual  resides,  they  are  successively  the  same 
percipient.  Nor  is  the  case  otherwise  with  ourselves:  for,  as  has 
been  already  observed  in  the  chapter  on  the  Trinity,  personaHty  and 
identity  belong  properly  to  Spirit  ;  Matter  has  none  of  its  own,  but 
assumes  a  borrowed  personality  from  the  particular  Spirit  whereto  it 
happens  to  stand  united. 

"  We  all  apprehend  ourselves  continuing  the  same  persons  from  the 
cradle  to  the  grave,  notwithstanding  that  many  believe  all  the  corporeal 
particles  belonging  to  us  change  every  seven  years  ;  because  the  same 
percipient  abiding  with  us  throughout  makes  every  fresh  set  of  them 
become  a  part  of  ourselves  for  the  time,  while  adhering  to  us,  and 
serving  for  our  uses.  And  the  personal  identity  currently  believed  to 
continue  through  life  in  the  brutes,  rests  upon  the  same  bottom  with 
our  own  :  every  child  who  reads  the  fable  of  the  Old  Lion  buff"eted 
about  by  the  beasts  in  revenge  for  the  tyrannies  he  had  exercised 
over  them  in  his  youth,  acknowledges  he  deserved  the  punishment. 
But  punishment  is  not  ordinarily  esteemed  just  unless  inflicted  upon 
the  very  party  offending;  therefore  the  whelp,  the  young,  and  the 
decrepit  Lion  is  conceived  all  along  the  same  identical  creature  :  but 
this  identity  must  depend  upon  the  feeling  part,  for  the  corporeal 
composition  may  be  supposed  to  fluctuate  and  change  as  ours  does. 

"  We  have  no  knowledge  of  other  percipients  unless  by  means  of 

242 


ABRAHAM   TUCKER 

their  appearance  and  discernible  actions,  therefore  cannot  know  what 
other  powers  they  might  not  exert  if  they  had  other  instruments  to 
serve  them  :  we  are  ready  enough  to  think  that  if  we  had  as  good  a 
nose  as  the  hound,  we  could  distinguish  scents  as  well  as  he  ;  or  if  we 
had  the  wings  and  piercing  optics  of  the  vulture,  we  could  soar  aloft, 
and  discern  objects  as  far :  what  then  should  hinder  but  if  those 
creatures  had  our  nice  texture  of  brain,  they  might  make  as  good  use 
of  it  as  we  do  ?  or  what  evidence  is  there  in  experience  or  reason  to 
prove  that  every  perceptive  individual  is  not  capable  of  receiving  what- 
ever perceptions  any  organisation,  vitally  united  thereto,  is  capable  of 
conveying  ?  Our  physiological  science  does  not  extend  to  the  laws  of 
Universal  Nature  governing  the  worlds  unseen,  we  must  take  our  con- 
ceptions of  them  from  our  ideas  of  the  divine  Attributes ;  and  the 
boundless  Goodness  of  God  is  no  slight  evidence  to  persuade  us  that 
his  Mercy  spreads  over  all  his  perceptive  creatures  to  whom  he  has 
given  an  individuality,  rendering  them  imperishable,  and  that  he  has 
provided  laws  among  his  second  causes  which  will  raise  them  gradually 
from  a  more  abject  condition  to  higher  faculties  and  higher  degrees  of 
enjoyment.  From  whence  it  seems  probable  there  is  a  general  interest 
of  animals,  comprehending  that  of  all  other  species  together  with  the 
human. 

"  I  shall  not  scruple  to  own  that,  however  this  point  be  deter- 
mined, it  will  make  no  difference  in  our  treatment  of  the  animals  ; 
therefore  the  generality  of  mankind,  to  whom  it  can  be  of  no  benefit  for 
their  direction  in  the  conduct  of  life,  are  welcome  to  reject  it  with 
ridicule  and  exclamation  at  the  strangeness  of  the  thought;  but  for 
such  as  Uke  to  handle  the  Telescope,  to  attempt  excursions  into  the 
boundless  regions  of  Universal  Nature,  and  can  find  a  use  in  speculation 
for  warming  and  enlarging  their  hearts,  it  may  prove  not  unavailing. 
For  my  own  part,  1  place  my  hopes,  not  so  much  in  any  supposed  pre- 
eminence of  my  present  nature,  nor  merits  of  my  person,  as  in  the 
riches  of  the  divine  Bounty :  and  the  farther  I  can  persuade  myself 
that  Bounty  extends,  the  higher  rise  my  hopes.  My  principal  solicitude 
is  for  the  fate  of  the  human  species,  because  being  one  of  the  number 
composing  it ;  but  if  that  be  secured,  if  God  design  me  an  elder  brother's 
portion,  I  care  not  how  many  of  our  younger  brethren  be  destined  to 
receive  the  like  :  for  I  have  so  high  an  opinion  of  his  inexhaustible 
treasures,  as  to  lie  under  no  apprehension  lest  he  should  be  forced  to 
abate  from  my  share  in  order  to  make  up  for  theirs.  Besides  that  a 
good-natured  man,  who  knows  what  slaughters  and  hard  services  the 
animals  are  put  to  for  our  necessary  uses,  in  some  whereof  he  is  forced 
himself  to  give  a  reluctant  hand,  will  feel  a  satisfaction  in  having  room 
to  imagine  their  interests  so  connected  with  ours,  that  whatever  advances 
the  one  must  advance  the  other,  and  all  they  do  or  suffer  for  our  benefit 
will  in  the  long  run  redound  to  their  own." 

243  R  2 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

The  attempt  to  give,  within  a  small  compass  and  by 
practicable  quotation,  any  adequate  idea  of  Tucker's  method 
and  style  is  scarcely  more  satisfactory  than  bringing  a  bucket 
of  water  to  represent  the  ocean,  or  than  producing  a  few 
sprigs  of  fern  by  way  of  enabling  a  Londoner  to  appreciate 
the  scenery  of  the  New  Forest.  In  fact,  Tucker's  treatise 
might  well  be  likened  to  an  extensive  metaphysical  forest, 
traversed,  indeed,  by  certain  high-roads,  along  which  the 
author  knows  his  way  well  enough,  but  which  he  seldom 
keeps  to  for  any  length  of  time,  having  a  strong  propensity 
for  conducting  his  reader  into  alluring  by-paths  on  the  one 
side  or  the  other,  and  not  infrequently  bringing  him  round 
to  see  some  favourite  prospect  again  and  again  from  a 
different  point  of  view.  At  the  same  time,  just  as  in  a  walk 
in  the  forest,  it  is  these  interesting,  and  sometimes  only 
apparently  irrelevant,  digressions  which  are  most  instructive, 
while  they  undoubtedly  constitute  no  inconsiderable  part 
both  of  the  forest's  and  of  the  author's  charm.  Although 
occasionally  attracted  by  highly  imaginative,  and  what  to 
many  may  seem  even  extremely  fantastical,  speculations,  he 
never  loses  his  grip  on  the  realities  of  life  ;  and  notwithstand- 
ing our  excursions  into  various  hypothetical  states  of  being, 
we  are  always  brought  back  to  this  world, 

"  Which  is  the  world  of  all  of  us,  and  where 
We  find  our  happiness,  or  not  at  all." 

He  is  essentially  a  moralist,  and  discourses  eloquently  in 
praise  of  honour,  rectitude,  prudence,  fortitude,  temperance, 
justice,  and  benevolence;  and  yet,  without  subscribing 
altogether  to  Mandeville's  doctrine  that  private  vices  are 
public  benefits,  he  sees  that,  in  such  a  world  as  the  present, 
it  is  certainly  sometimes  highly  convenient  that  many  persons 
are  possessed  of  qualities  the  reverse  of  virtuous.  It  is 
undeniable,  he  says,  that  much  good  springs  from  evil,  and 
that  "  vices  serve  like  rotten  dung  to  force  up  those  exotic 
plants  the  virtues  in  us." 

244 


ABRAHAM   TUCKER 

"  How  should  we  man  our  fleets  or  recruit  our  armies,  if  there  were 
DO  such  thing  as  idleness,  extravagance,  and  debauchery  in  the  kingdom  ? 
I  believe  few,  even  among  the  poorest,  ever  breed  up  their  children  to 
those  services,  so  that  if  none  were  to  be  taken  into  them  who  did  not 
enter  out  of  prudence  or  deliberate  choice,  I  fear  the  little  state  of 
Genoa  might  be  able  to  overrun  us.  The  parents  wish  their  lads  to 
get  a  safe  and  honest  livelihood  upon  the  land  by  their  labour,  or  to 
learn  some  manual  trade  for  a  subsistence  :  but  when  a  young  fellow  is 
good  for  nothing  else,  or  becomes  involved  in  debt,  or  hampered  in 
some  dangerous  amour,  then  away  he  goes  to  make  food  for  powder, 
or  a  sop  in  the  briny  broth  of  Ocean.  And  when  commenced  warrior, 
he  becomes  serviceable  more  by  his  imperfections  than  by  his  good 
qualities  :  the  watchings  and  fastings,  the  wants,  distresses,  bangs  and 
bruises  he  has  brought  upon  himself  by  his  irregularities,  inure  him  to 
a  hardiness  that  nothing  can  hurt ;  his  averseness  to  forethought,  and 
the  habit  of  singing  '  Hang  sorrow,  cast  away  care,'  render  him  intrepid 
because  blind  to  danger,  insensibility  proving  a  succedaneum  in  the  place 
of  fortitude ;  that  hardest  of  virtues  to  be  acquired  by  contemplation 
and  reasoning,  the  last  learned  by  the  Divine  or  the  Philosopher." 

A  sensible  man  who  wants  shoes,  he  declares,  will  resort 
to  a  clever  workman,  whatever  his  morals  may  be,  rather 
than  to  one  who,  though  scrupulously  honest  and  deeply 
devout,  is  a  bungler  at  his  trade  ;  and  were  all  our  artisans  to 
barter  their  knowledge  and  dexterity  for  a  proportionate  degree 
of  virtue,  the  world  would  suffer  greatly  by  the  exchange. 

"We  speculative  people  are  apt  to  persuade  ourselves  it  would  be 
a  happy  world  if  all  men  were  good,  and  I  must  own  myself  still  in  that 
persuasion,  provided  you  allow  us  our  own  definition  of  good  men :  that 
is,  such  in  whom  reason  is  so  absolute,  and  the  spirit  of  rectitude  so 
strong,  as  to  overpower  all  indolence,  appetite,  terror,  and  pain,  with 
the  same  ease  as  a  violent  fit  of  revenge,  or  love,  or  jealousy,  or  ambi- 
tion, or  covetousness  can  do  ;  which  will  enable  men  to  bear  any  toils 
or  hurts  in  the  prosecution  of  their  purpose,  without  feeling  them.  But 
if  we  must  be  fetched  down  from  our  visionary  ideas,  and  confined 
to  such  good  men  as  can  be  found  upon  the  earth,  I  much  question 
whether  matters  would  be  mended  if  all  others  could  be  brought  to 
resemble  them.  .  .  , 

"  For  Providence  has  so  ordered  the  courses  of  sublunary  affairs, 
that  wickedness,  impulse,  and  folly  are  made  instrumental  to  wise  and 
gracious  purposes,  and  one  vice  is  employed  to  correct  the  poisonous 
qualities,  and  prevent  the  mischievous  effects,  of  another,  so  that  none 
can  be  spared  unless  all  are  cured ;  which  we  must  not  expect  to  see 

245 


NOBLE   DAMES  AND   NOTABLE   MEN 

done  before  the  coming  of  the  Kingdom  of  the  just,  wherein,  to  speak 
in  Scripture  language,  we  hope  to  be  born  again,  and  become  new 
creatures." 

According  to  Tucker's  philosophy,  the  gratification  of  our 
own  desires  is  the  proper  business  of  hfe ;  and  selfishness 
consists,  not  in  having  a  regard  for  oneself,  but  in  having  no 
regard  for  anybody  else;  and  yet  "life  seems  to  be  given, 
not  for  the  benefit  of  the  individual,  but  for  some  service 
done  therein  to  the  whole,"  for  "  we  were  neither  born  nor 
talented  for  ourselves  alone :  we  are  citizens  of  the  universe." 
We  all  benefit  to  some  extent  by  whatever  any  one  of  us 
does  to  increase  the  general  stock  of  happiness.    Though  our 
persons  be  single  and  our  efforts  small,  nobody  can  say  what 
multitudes  they  may  not  affect  for  good  or  for  evil.     A  little 
negligence  in  placing  a  candle  may  produce  a  iire  that  shall 
burn  down  a  whole  town  ;  and  although  Noah  built  his  ark 
to  save  only  a  small  family  of  eight  persons,  "  in  so  doing  he 
saved  all  the  generations  of  men  that  have  since  overspread 
the  earth."     By  doing  good  to  another  a  man  does  good  to 
himself;  by  hurting  another  he  hurts  himself;  and  not  only 
so,  but  by  doing  good  to  a  number  of  others  a  man  earns 
more   good    for    himself    than    he    could     possibly    do    by 
working  for  his  own  interest   alone.     Tucker  enforces  this 
doctrine  by  a  quaint  allegory  of  what  he  calls  the  "  Bank 
of  Heaven  "  :— 

"  Since  the  allegory  of  books  has  been  employed  by  the  best  autho- 
rities, we  may  consider  the  provisions  of  Heaven  as  an  universal  bank, 
wherein  accounts  are.regularly  kept,  and  every  man  debited  or  credited 
for  the  least  farthing  he  takes  out  or  brings  in.  All  the  good  we  procure 
to  another,  the  labour  and  self-denial  we  go  through  prudently,  and 
evil  we  suffer  unavoidably,  are  written  down  as  articles  in  our  favour ; 
all  the  evil  we  do,  the  fond  indulgences  we  give  in  to,  or  good  we  receive, 
entered  per  contra  as  so  much  drawn  out  of  our  cash.  Perhaps  some- 
thing may  be  taken  out  for  the  public  services,  but  then  we  have  the 
benefit  of  this  in  the  public  conveniences  and  protection  whereof  we 
partake;  but  the  remainder  lies  placed  to  each  private  account  for 
answering  our  calls  or  supplying  our  occasions. 

"  And  this  is  a  better  bank  than  that  of  England  to  keep  our  current 

246 


ABRAHAM   TUCKER 

cash ;  I  shall  not  say  for  its  greater  security,  because  the  monied  men 
of  this  and  foreign  nations  think  the  other  secure  enough ;  but  the 
Bank  of  England  give  no  interest  upon  their  notes,  whereas  the  Bank 
of  the  Universe  improve  what  we  have  lying  there  to  immense  advantage, 
far  beyond  what  could  be  made  in  script  by  any  Jew  or  clerk  in  the 
secretary  office  let  into  secrets ;  and  the  application  to  our  several 
occasions  lies  under  wiser  management  than  our  own.  If  I  have  an 
account  with  the  Bank  of  England,  and  should  take  it  into  my  head, 
because  other  folks  are  fond  of  the  like,  to  throw  away  a  large  sum  in 
punch  and  ale  for  gaining  me  the  huzzas  of  a  drunken  mob,  and  pro- 
curing me  an  opportunity  of  serving  my  country  which  I  want  abilities 
to  use  ;  or  to  buy  a  horse  of  noble  lineage,  descended  from  Turkish  or 
Barbarian  ancestors,  to  run  at  Newmarket  :  upon  applying  to  the  cashier 
in  Threadneedle  Street  for  a  thousand  pounds,  he  will  instantly  order 
payment  without  asking  questions  :  though  I  may  want  the  money 
grievously  next  year  to  make  up  a  portion  for  my  Serena  or  my  Sparkler. 
Or  should  I  chance  on  some  distant  journey  to  be  reduced  low  in  pocket, 
if  I  have  no  checked  paper  along  with  me,  I  cannot  draw  for  a  single 
sixpence  to  buy  me  a  little  bread  and  cheese. 

"  But  the  directors  of  the  bank  above  have  constant  intelligence  from 
all  parts  of  the  universe,  and  their  runners  traversing  to  and  fro  among 
their  customers :  so  that  whatever  I  have  belonging  to  me  there,  if  I 
call  for  a  sum  to  squander  away  upon  some  vice  or  folly,  though  I  beg 
and  pray  never  so  hard,  the  cashier  will  not  issue  me  a  farthing,  because 
he  knows  it  had  better  be  kept  in  reserve  for  more  necessary  occasions. 
But  if  I  chance  to  fall  into  distress  in  any  disconsolate  spot  of  nature, 
where  a  supply  would  do  me  real  service,  though  I  should  not  see  the 
danger  of  my  situation,  nor  have  sent  advice  with  the  needful  per  post, 
I  shall  have  the  runner  angel  privately  slip  the  proper  sum  into  my 
hand  at  a  time  when  I  least  expect  it.  So  we  have  no  need  to  trouble 
ourselves  about  the  improvement  of  our  money  there,  or  the  laying  it 
out  for  any  particular  uses :  it  is  our  business  to  use  all  our  judgment 
and  industry  and  vigilance  for  throwing  as  much  as  we  can  continually 
into  bank.  Yet  this  does  not  hinder  us  from  taking  present  enjoyments 
from  time  to  time,  where  innocent,  and  lying  properly  within  our  reach ; 
for  though  this  be  a  lessening  of  our  future  demands,  yet  the  future 
were  of  no  avail  if  it  were  never  to  be  present ;  nor  is  money  good  for 
anything  but  to  be  spent,  provided  it  be  spent  prudently,  and  no  more 
given  for  things  than  they  are  worth. 

"  Nor  have  we  concern  only  with  the  articles  of  our  own  account,  but 
with  those  likewise  of  other  persons ;  from  whence  we  may  receive  a 
pleasure  not  to  be  found  in  the  ordinary  course  of  worldly  commerce. 
If  on  attending  at  the  earthly  accountant  office,  the  eye,  while  the 
clerks  turn  over  the  leaves  of  their  books,  happens  to  catch  upon  some 
body  else's  balance,  which  appears  ten  times  larger  than  our  own,  one 

247 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

may  be  mortified  to  find  oneself  so  inconsiderable  in  point  of  riches, 
compared  with  him. 

"  But  in  the  accounts  of  Providence,  a  like  discovery  would  prove  no 
such  mortification  :  for,  we  dealing  all  in  partnership,  the  profits  whereof 
are  to  be  made  equal  to  each  in  some  shape  or  other  in  some  part  of 
our  period,  whatever  virtues,  talents,  or  successes  we  see  elsewhere, 
adding  more  largely  to  the  common  stock  than  we  can  do  ourselves, 
must  become  matter  of  rejoicing  rather  than  vexation.  Because  the 
rule  of  equality  insures  to  us  that  we  shall  either  immediately  partake 
of  the  fruits  gathered  therefrom,  or  at  some  future  time  be  instated  in 
a  branch  of  trade  we  see  to  be  more  profitable  than  that  now  under  our 
management." 

There  is  a  great  deal  more  in  Tucker's  seven  volumes, 
both  in  the  way  of  acute  thinking  and  humorous  illustration, 
which  the  reader  who  likes  these  samples  may  be  left  to  find 
out  for  himself,  if  perchance  he  can  light  upon  a  copy  of 
the  work.  Some  of  the  chapters  on  subsidiary  subjects — 
on  habit,  on  custom  and  fashion,  on  vanity,  on  education 
— are  admirable  for  sound  common  sense,  original  views, 
and  effective  handling ;  and  throughout  the  treatise  we  are 
occasionally  interested  and  surprised  by  an  almost  pro- 
phetic anticipation  of  modern  ideas.  Tucker's  mind  seems 
to  have  been  of  that  kind  which,  although  it  makes  no 
discoveries  in  science  and  creates  no  era  in  speculation, 
is  yet  so  constituted  as  to  have  foregleams  of  the  road 
along  which  future  scientific  and  philosophical  thought  will 
travel.  He  provided  Paley  with  a  scheme  of  natural  theology 
and  moral  philosophy,  on  which  several  generations  of  our 
youths  have  been  nourished.  He  anticipated  a  good  deal  of 
the  utilitarian  doctrine  which  we  associate  with  the  names 
of  Mill  and  Bentham ;  and  if  he  did  not  quite  invent  the 
famous  formula  of  the  Utilitarian  school,  he  at  any  rate  came 
very  near  it  in  his  persistent  advocacy  of  an  endeavour  after 
"  that  general  happiness  wherein  we  shall  always  find  our 
own  contained."  He  was  the  first  to  draw  attention  to  those 
curious  mental  phenomena  which  have  since  been  named 
"  unconscious  cerebration  "  ;  and  he  expressly  advocated  that 
very  recent  development  of  psychology,  the  scientific  study 

248 


ABRAHAM   TUCKER 

of  the  child-mind.  A  century  before  Pasteur  he  held  the 
belief  that  all  our  diseases  may  proceed  from  "  an  imper- 
ceptible vermin  swarming  within  us,"  and  some  of  his  ideas 
about  the  constitution  and  divisibility  of  matter  bear  a  curious 
resemblance  to  what  we  have  been  hearing  lately  about 
electrons  and  radio-activity.  It  would  be  too  much  to  assert 
that  he  had  an  anticipation  of  Darwin's  doctrine  of  the 
origin  of  species,  though  he  did  say  that  perhaps  nature 
originally  made  us  to  go  on  all  fours,  and  that  we  have  our- 
selves laboriously  acquired  the  erect  posture ;  and  when  he 
declares  that  the  common  worm,  perhaps,  "assists  the  plough- 
man to  fructify  the  earth  by  turning  it  continually,  ...  so 
that  we  may  be  beholden  to  him  in  part  for  our  daily  bread 
and  owe  him  more  thanks  than  anger  for  defiling  the  turf  in 
our  gardens,"  he  most  distinctly  anticipates  the  interesting 
theory  of  the  action  of  earth-worms  to  which  Darwin  devoted 
a  volume  a  century  or  more  afterwards.  We  may  imagine 
with  what  delight  the  author  of  the  hypothesis  of  the 
*'  vehicular  state "  would  have  learned,  as  we  have  learned 
recently  on  the  highest  scientific  authority,  that  when  the 
atoms  of  oxygen  unite  with  the  atoms  of  hydrogen  they  rush 
into  one  another's  embraces  as  if  they  were  animated  beings, 
which,  indeed,  Haeckel  declares  they  are ;  and  what  play 
he  would  have  made  with  Herbert  Spencer's  "  physiological 
units,"  with  Weismann's  "biphors,"  and  "ids," and  "idents," 
and  the  whole  theory  of  the  germ-plasm,  or  with  the  modern 
scientific  statement  that  fifty  million  atoms  of  average  size 
if  laid  end  to  end,  would  measure  only  about  one  inch  in 
length,  while,  according  to  Sir  Oliver  Lodge,  an  "electron" 
could  roam  about  in  one  of  these  inconceivably  minute  atoms 
like  a  mouse  in  a  cathedral. 

But  it  is  as  a  practical  moralist  and  a  metaphysical 
humourist  that  Tucker  most  conspicuously  shines.  With  no 
illusions  about  human  nature,  knowing  most  men  to  be  "  so 
unreasonable  that  they  expect  to  buy  understanding  and 
sentiments,  as  they  do  clothes,  ready-made  at  a  shop,"  and 

249 


NOBLE  DAMES  AND  NOTABLE  MEN 

finding  plenty  of  voluptuaries  in  devotion  as  well  as  in  eating, 
who,  as  he  slily  observes,  would  find  "  a  sip  of  Davy's  elixir,  in 
the  morning  rising,  a  powerful  means  of  grace,"  his  temper  is 
yet  so  truly  equitable  that  he  would  not  only  do  as  he  would 
be  done  by,  but  think  as  he  would  be  thought  by.  And 
throughout  the  whole  of  his  work  he  shows  himself  to  be  a 
friend  and  hearty  well-wisher  to  all,  whose  main  object  is  the 
inculcation  of  universal  charity  and  unreserved  benevolence. 
It  is  impossible  to  read  through  "The  Light  of  Nature  Pur- 
sued "  without  conceiving  a  hearty  admiration  for  the 
honest,  candid,  simple,  religious,  yet  shrewd  and  humorous 
character  of  its  author ;  and  any  reader  who  has  accom- 
plished that  rather  long-drawn-out  but  nevertheless  delight- 
ful task  will  probably  echo  Hazlitt's  remark  that  he  had 
never  come  across  anything  in  the  shape  of  a  metaphysical 
treatise  which  contained  so  much  good  sense  so  agreeably 
expressed. 


250 


INDEX 


Addington,  Henry  A.,  loi,  102 
Addison,  Joseph,  175,  176 
Ailesbury,  Lady,  33,  49,  53 
Allen,  Dr.,  179,  180,  182,  189,  195 
Amelia,  H.R.H.  Princess,  22,  23, 

25, 34,  45,  46,  48, 53, 63, 67,  71,  72 
Angelo,  Henry,  84,  88,  93,  97,  98, 

99,  100 
Argyll,  Archibald,  Duke  of,  11,  12 
Argyll,  Jane,  Duchess  of,  4,  5,  6,  7, 

9,  13,  20,  33,  70 
Argyll  and  Greenwich,  John,  Duke 

of,  4,  5,  6,  7,  20,  21,  24,  32,  47,  51 
Austen,  Miss,  195 
Austin,  Mrs.,  186,  189 

Babington,  Dr.,  199 

Barker,  Edward,  205 

Barry,  Madame  du,  56,  57 

Barrymore,  Lady,  68 

Bate-Dudley,  Sir  Henry,  Bart. 
("  the  fighting  parson  "),  pa- 
rentage, 81 ;  curate  at  Hendon, 
82  ;  the  Vauxhall  affray,  82-86  ; 
subsequent  boxing  bout,  86-87  ; 
founder  and  editor  of  Morning 
Post,  89-90 ;  duel  with  "  Captain  " 
Stoney,  90-91  ;  duel  with  pro- 
prietor of  paper,  91 ;  his  comic 
operas,  93 ;  riot  at  Drury  Lane, 
93-94;  marriage,  94;  Mrs.  Hart- 
^^Y)  95"96 ;  started  Morning 
Herald,  96  ;  in  prison  for  libel, 
96-97 ;  bought  advowson  of 
Bradwell,  97  ;  expended  fortune 
there,  97-98  ;  amusements  on 
land  and  sea,  98-99;  put  down 
poaching,  smuggling,  and  riot- 
ing, 100- loi ;  testimonial  from 
county  magistrates,  loi  ;  eight 
years  in  Ireland,  102  ;  created 
baronet,   102;   prebend  of  Ely, 


103 ;  death  and  summary  of 
character,  103-104.  Also  men- 
tioned, 112,  117 

Beaufort,  Duke  of,  38 

Bedford,  Duke  of,  52 

Bellenden,  Henry,  11-12 

Bentham,  Jeremy,  248 

Berkeley,  Bishop,  211 

Bessborough,  Lord,  47 

Bolingbroke,  Lady,  38 

Bolingbroke,  Lord,  38 

Borgia,  Csesar,  228,  229 

Boufflers,  Madame  de,  34,  39 

Bowes,  Andrew  Robinson  Stoney, 
go,  gi,  113,  114,  115,  116,  117, 
118,  119,  120,  121,  122,  123,  124, 
126,  127,  128,  129,  130,  131,  132, 

I33>  134.  i35>  136.  137.  138,  139. 

140,  141,  142,  143,  144 
Bowes,  George,  M.P.,  108,  109 
Brereton,  —  (Irish  duellist),  92 
Brougham,  Lord,  177,  184,  192 
Brown,  Lady,  38,  39 
Brunswick,  H.R.H.  Duchess  of,  46, 

58 
Brunswick,  Prince  Ferdinand  of, 

32 
Bryant,  Rev.  Mr.,  163 
Buccleuch,  Duchess  of,  75 
Burke,  Edmund,  47 
Burnet,  Thomas,  229 
Butler,  Bishop,  211 
Byron,  Lord,  177 

Camden,  Lord,  81 

Campbell,  Thomas,  187 

Canova,  Antonio,  177 

Carew,  Bampfylde- Moore  ("  King 
of  the  Beggars  "),  authorities  for 
his  life,  148-149;  birth  and 
parentage,  150;  ran  away  and 
joined     gipsies,     151 ;     begging 


251 


INDEX 


tricks,  153  ;  visit  to  Newfound- 
land, 154;  apprenticed  to  rat- 
catcher, 154 ;  elected  king  of 
the  gipsies,  155;  a  runaway 
marriage,  156;  reverses  and 
imprisonment,  157-158;  trans- 
portation to  Maryland,  158; 
escape,  159;  travels  in  America, 
160-161 ;  return  to  England,  161 ; 
effective  disguises,  162-163  ;  as 
an  old  woman,  164;  outwitted 
by  Lord  Weymouth,  166-167; 
made  money  by  lotteries  and 
retired  from  business,  168; 
summary  of  character,  168-170 

Carew,  Rev.  Theodore,  150 

Caroline,  Queen  (consort  of 
George  II.),  22 

Catherine,  Empress  of  Russia,  36, 
52,  63 

Chabot,  Lady  Mary,  36,  44 

Chandos,  Duke  of,  58 

Chardin,  Sir  John,  175 

Charlotte,  Queen  (consort  of 
George  III.),  57 

Chatelet,  Madame  de,  49 

Choiseul,  Due  de,  52 

Chrysostom,  St.,  197 

Clive,  Lord,  57,  65 

Coke,  Edward,  Viscount,  3,  9,  10, 
II,  12,  13,  14,  15 

Coke,  Lady  Marj',  parentage  and 
childhood,  4-8 ;  Lord  Coke's 
proposal,  9;  marriage,  10;  ill- 
usage,  10-14 ;  separation  and 
husband's  death,  15;  "engage- 
ment" to  Lord  March,  15-17; 
Horace  Walpole's  admiration, 
17-18  ;  her  sisters,  21-22  ;  in  the 
Court  circle,  22-23,  34  !  relations 
with  Duke  of  York,  44-47  ;  pro- 
posal from  Lord  Bessborough, 
47-48  ;  visit  to  Voltaire,  50  ;  first 
visit  to  Maria  Theresa  at  Vienna, 
51  ;  second  visit  to  Vienna,  57  ; 
quarrel  with  Maria  Theresa,  61 ; 
ineffectual  visit  to  Frederick 
the  Great,  64-65 ;  Italy  and 
quarrel  with  Horace  Mann,  65- 
67 ;  cooling  of  friendship  with 
Horace  Walpolc,  67-69  ;  her 
journal,     69-70 ;     her    various 


residences,  70 ;  quarrel  with 
Princess  Amelia,  71-72  ;  eccen- 
tricities of  dress  and  manner, 
72-74 ;  death,  75  ;  summary  of 
character,  76 ;  H.  Walpole's 
letters  to  her,  19,  23,  25-26,  27- 
30,  30-31,  32-33,  35-37,  37-39, 
39-40,  41-42,  43-44,  49-50,  50-51, 
51-53,  54-55,  56-57,  58-59,  59- 
60,  61-63  '■>  H-  Walpole's  verses 
to  her,  19,  31-32,  43 

Coleman,  Thomas,  151,  152,  158 

Coleridge,  Samuel  Taylor,  195 

Colman,  George,  82 

Cowper,  Lady,  192,  193 

Cowper,  Lord,  192 

Crabbe,  George,  79,  195 

Creevey,  Thomas,  183,  184 

Crofts,  Captain,  83,  84,  85,  86,  87 

Croker,  John  Wilson,  190 

Cumberland,  H.R.H.  Duke  of,  38, 

47 
Cumberland,  Richard,  53,  82 

Curran,  John  Philpott,  177 

Dalkeith,  Lady  (afterwards 
Baroness  Greenwich),  9,  21,  43, 
44,  45,  46,  52,  59,  69 

Dalkeith,  Lord,  21 

Darwin,  Charles,  249 

Dauphin,  The,  36,  38,  39,  40 

Davies,  W.  H.  ("  the  super- 
tramp  "),  169 

Davy,  Sir  Humphry,  177,  189 

Deffand,  Madame  du,  55 

Defoe,  Daniel,  211 

Delany,  Mrs.,  14,  64,  65 

Dorset,  Duke  of,  38 

Douglas,  Lady,  75 

Drummond-Moray,  Mr.,  19,  59 

Dryden,  John,  206 

Dudley,  H.,  see  Bate-Dudley,  Sir 
Henry,  Bart. 

Dudley,  Lord,  181 

Duncombe,  Tom,  180 

Eldon,  Lord,  128,  177 
Epicurus,  221 
Erskine,  Lord,  186 
Escott,  John,  151,  153,  158 
Esterhazy,  Princess,  63 
Estrees,  Marshal  d',  32 


252 


INDEX 


Fairfax,  General,  175 

Fielding,  Henry,  211 

Fife,  Lady,  58,  43 

Fife,  Lord,  38,  42 

Fitzgerald,       Robert       ("fighting 

Fitzgerald  "),  85,  86,  87,  88 
Fitzherbert,  Mrs.,  74 
Foot,  Dr.  Jesse,  107,  108,  in,  113, 

117,  118,  119,  121,  122,  123,  137, 

140,  142 
Fox,  Charles  James,  176,  ig8 
Fox,     Henry     (afterwards     Lord 

Holland),  175,  176 
Francis,  Sir  Philip,  176,  177 
Franklin,  Benjamin,  160 
Frederick  the  Great,  23,  64,  65 

Gainsborough,  Thomas,  103 
Garrick,  David,  52,  53,  82,  93 
Geoffrin,  Madame  de,  36,  39 
George  11.,  22,  26,  37 
George  IIL,  26,  27,  28,  44,  57 
Germain,  Lady  Betty,  49 
Gifford,  William,  191 
Gloucester,  H.R.H.  Duke  of,  47, 

65,68 
Goadby,  Robert,  149,  170 
Goderich,  Lord,  190 
Goldsmith,  Oliver,  79,  211 
Goodere,  Captain,  161 
Gower,  Lady,  9 
Gower,  Lord,  75 
Granby,  Marquis  of,  32 
Grantham,  Lord,  53 
Gray,  George,  112,  114,  115,  117, 

120,  121,  141 
Gray,  Thomas,  211 
Grenville,  George,  40,  52 
Greville,  C.  C.  F.,   17S,  179,   180, 

186,  191,  195,  196,  197,  199 
Grey,  Earl,  192 
Guisnes,  Monsieur  de,  52 

Haeckel,  Ernst,  249 
Hamilton,  Duchess  of,  46,  72 
Hamilton,  Lady,  74 
Harrington,  Lady,  72 
Harris,  Mrs.,  50 
Hartley,  David,  211,  213 
Hartley,  Elizabeth,  82,  83,  87,  94, 

95.  96,  103 
Hayward,  Abraham,  177,  183,  189 


Hazlitt,  William,  212,  250 

Hertford,  Lady,  33 

Hertford,  Lord,  32,  34,  64 

Hervey,  Lady,  11 

Hobart,  Lord  (afterwards  Lord 
Auckland),  190 

Holderness,  Lady,  71 

Holkham  Hall,  3,  10,  12,  13,  14 

Holland,  Ehzabeth,  Lady,  parent- 
age, 173 ;  marriage  to  Sir 
Godfrey  Webster,  174  ;  divorce 
and  marriage  to  Lord  Holland, 
174;  Holland  House,  174-177; 
management  as  hostess,  178- 
179  ;  her  despotism,  179-182  ; 
revolts  against  her,  182-183; 
some  unpleasant  impressions, 
184-185;  Sydney  Smith's  testi- 
mony, 186-187 ;  political  am- 
bitions, 190-191 ;  the  talk  at 
Holland  House,  192-197;  sum- 
mary of  character,  198-199 

Holland,  second   Earl  of,  175 

Holland,  Henry  Richard,  Lord, 
173.  174.  176,  178,  179.  180,  185, 
186,  187,  190,  191,  192,  194,  195, 
196,  197 

Holland,  Sir  Henry,  Bart.,  178, 
181,  190,  ig8 

Holland  House,  174-177,  196 

Home,  Hon.  James  Archibald,  20, 
6g 

Home,  Lord,  6g 

Horner,  Francis,  188 

Hull,  Thomas,  83,  95 

Humboldts,  The,  177 

Hume,  David,  211 

Hunter,  Dr.  John,  107,  128 

Huntingdon,  Lord,  53 

Jeffrey,  Francis,  177,  189 
Jekyll,  Joseph,  184,  185,  190,  191 
Jersey,  Lady,  184 
Johnson,  Samuel,  211 
Jordan,  Mrs.,  103 
Joseph,  Emperor  of  Germany,  51, 
54>  55>  61 

Kemble,  Fanny,  185,  186 
Klopstock,     Frederick     Gottlieb, 

195,  ig6 
Knox,  Rev.  Alexander,  80 


253 


INDEX 


Lambert,  General,  175 
Lavoisier,  Antoine  Laurent,  56 
Leeuwenhoeck,  Anthony  Van,  231 
Leicester,  Countess  of,  9 
Leicester,  Thomas  Coke,  Earl  of, 

3,  9,  10,  II,  13,  15 
Liechtenstein,  Princess,  175,  176, 

179,  190 
Ligonier,  Lord,  23,  24 
Lilford,  Lady,  199 
Locke,   John,  206,  213,  226,   227, 

228,  229,  231 
Lodge,  Sir  Oliver,  249 
Lonsdale,  Lady,  74 
Luttrell,  Henry,  177,  180,  184,  igg 
Lyell,  Sir  Charles,  181 
Lyndhurst,  Lord,  177 
Lyttelton,  Lord  ("the  bad  lord"), 

no 
Lyttelton,      Lord      ("  the     good 

lord  "),  109 

Macaulay,   Lord,    177,    181,    182, 

i93i  194,  i96>  197'  199 
Macdonald,  Sir  James,  193 
Mackenzie,  Lady  Betty,  9,  13,  17, 

22,  46,  49 
Mackenzie,  James  Stuart,  13,  22, 

33 

Mackintosh,  Sir  James,  174,  176, 

192,  196,  203 
Mandeville,  Bernard,  244 
Mann,  Sir  Horace,  65,  67 
March,     Lord    (afterwards    "  old 

Q."),  15,  16,  17,  44 
Maria  Theresa,  Empress  of  Ger- 
many, 50,  51,  54,  55,  57,  60,  61, 
63,  65,  66,  67,  68,  72,  73 
Marie      Antoinette,      Queen      of 

France,  52,  68 
Mark  ham,  Rev.  Samuel,  130 
Martin,  John,  151,  152,  158 
Melbourne,    Lord,    180,    182,    192, 

193,  195,  197 
Metternich,  Prince,  177 
Mill,  John  Stuart,  248 
Milman,  Dean,  195 
Minto,  Lord,  192 
Mirepoix,  Madame  de,  35,  39 
Montagu,  Mrs.  Elizabeth,  108,  109 
Montaigne,   Michel,   Seigneur  de, 

204 


Moore,  Thomas,  177, 178,  179,  180, 

182,  186,  189 
More,  Sir  Thomas,  196,  197 
Munro,  Sir  Thomas,  197 
Murray,  Lord  Advocate,  192 
Mustapha  III.,  Sultan  of  Turkey, 

52 

Newton,  Sir  Isaac,  229 
Newton,  Rev.  John,  79 
Norfolk,  Duchess  of,  45 
North,  Lord,  52,  89,  195 

OssoRY,  Countess  of,  25,  128 
Ossory,  Lord,  36 

Paley,  William,  79,  203,  210,  219, 

248 
Palmerston,  Lord,  191,  195,  198 
Parr,    Rev.   Dr.    Samuel,  79,   176, 

177 
Pasteur,  Louis,  249 
Pelham,  Miss  Frances,  47 
Penn,  William,  161,  175 
Pigot,  Lord,  57 
Pitt,  Lady  Anne,  22 
Pitt,  William  (Lord  Chatham),  19, 

20,  26,  35,  36,  52 
Planta,  Eliza,  114,  115,  116,  117 
Plato,  216,  223,  229 
Pleydell,  Mr.,  163,  164 
Poniatowski,  Prince,  58,  59 
Pope,  Alexander,  6,  211 
Porchester,  Lord,  182 
Portman,  Squire,  162 
Price,  Thomas,  167,  168 
Pythagoras,  229 

QuEENSBERRY, Catherine,  Duchess 
of,  16 

Redding,  Cyrus,  187 

Reid,  Thomas,  211 

Reynett,  Mrs.,  124,  125,  126,  127 

Reynett,  Rev.  Mr.,  124,  127 

Rice,  Thomas  Spring  (afterwards 

Lord  Monteagle),  195 
Rich,  Sir  Henry  (afterwards  first 

Earl  of  Holland),  175 
Richardson, Joseph,  91 
Richardson,  Samuel,  211 
Richmond,  Duchess  of,  38,  40 


254 


INDEX 


Richmond,  Duke  of,  38,  96,  195 
Rogers,  Samuel,  177,  179,  180,  181, 

182,  184,  185,  186 
Romford,  Count,  177 
Romilly,  Sir  Samuel,  177 
Rouelle,  Monsieur,  56 
Rousseau,  Jean  Jacques,  40 
Russell,  Lord  John,  188,  igo,  199 


St.  John,  Sir  Henry  Paulet,  Bart., 

206 
Sefton,  Lord,  184 
Seilern,  Count,  51,  52 
S^vigne,  Madame  de,  49,  195 
Sharpe,  Charles  Kirkpatrick,  75 
Shelburne,  Lord,  53 
Sheridan,   Richard   Brinsley,  102, 

177 
Sheridan,  Tom,  177 
Sherlock,  Bishop,  209 
Shield,  William,  94,  103 
Siddons,  Mrs.,  93,  103 
Skinner,  Alderman,  91 
Smith,  Adam,  41,  211 
Smith,  "Bobus,"  182,  186,  189,  195 
Smith,  Sydney,  177,  182,  185,  186, 

187,  188,  189,  190,  192 
Smollett,  Tobias,  211 
Solander,  Dr.,  56,  63 
Soubise,  Marshal,  32 
Spencer,  Herbert,  249 
Stael,  Madame  de,  176,  195 
Stahl,  Professor,  230 
Stephen,  Sir  James  Fitzjames,  210 
Stephens,  Rev.    Henry,    115,    116, 

iig,  124 
Stewart,  Lady  Susan,  46 
Stoney,  A.  R.,  see  Bowes,  A.  R.  S. 
Stormont,  Lord,  53 
Strafford,  Anne,  Countess  of,  21, 

22,  36,  45,  47,  48,  49,  52,  53,  57, 

60 
Strafford,  Earl  of,  21,  34,  42,  47. 

55.  61 
Strathmore,  John  Lyon,   Earl  of, 

110,  III,  112 
Strathmore,  Mary  Eleanor, 
Countess  of,  parentage,  108- 
109;  education,  no;  marriage 
to  Lord  Strathmore,  1 10 ; 
eccentricities,  horticultural  and 


poetic,  111-112;  death  of  Lord 
Strathmore,  112  ;  acts  the  merry 
widow,  112;  Stoney's  courtship, 
114-117;  strictures  in  Morning 
Post  and  Stoney's  duel  with 
editor,  117-118  ;  marriage  to 
Stoney,  119  ;  deed  settling 
estates  on  herself  revoked,  120- 
121 ;  husband's  extravagance, 
121-122  ;  attempted  abduction 
of  Lord  Strathmore's  daughters, 
123-126  ;  escape  from  husband, 
128-129;  abducted  by  husband, 
131-135  ;  rescued, 136-137  ;  hus- 
band tried  and  imprisoned,  138; 
property  restored  to  her,  139  ; 
her  death,  141  ;  husband's  life 
in  prison,  139-143;  his  death, 
143  ;  summary  of  character,  144, 
Also  mentioned,  go,  gi 

Stuart,  Lady  Louisa,  6,  7,  8,   14, 
15,  17,  47,  64,  68,  70,  73,  74,  75,  76 

Suffolk,  Lady,  12,  36,  42 

Swift,  Dean,  211 

Talleyrand,  Prince,  176,  180,  ig6 

Taylor,  Henry,  igs 

Taylor,  John,  8g 

Temple,  Lady,  20,  34 

Temple,  Lord,  36,  40,  52 

Thiers,  Adolphe,  198 

Thurlow,  Lord,  177 

Ticknor,  George,  183,  192,  193 

Tillard,  Sir  Isaac,  205 

Tooke,  John  Home,  52 

Townley,  Rev.  James,  82,  93 

Townshend,  Charles,  21,  43 

Trevelyan,  Sir  George,  176,  193 

Tucker,  Abraham,  birth  and 
education,  205 ;  marriage,  205  ; 
references  to  wife  in  "  Light  of 
Nature,"  206-207, 227-228  ;  daily 
habits,  208-209 ;  commenced 
author,  209-210;  retired  life,  211; 
death,  212  ;  account  of  his  moral 
philosophy,  213-219;  specula- 
tions on  a  future  state,  220-222  ; 
the  "  soul  of  the  world,"  223- 
225  ;  the  "  vision  "  of  a  future 
life,  225-231 ;  quaint  illustra- 
tions and  comparisons,  232- 
234  ;    some    heresies,    234-236 ; 


255 


INDEX 


man  made  for  animals,  23S ; 
animal  immortality,  240-243  ;  the 
use  of  vice  in  the  world,  244- 
245  ;  allegory  of  "  the  Bank  of 
Heaven,"  246-248  ;  anticipations 
of  modern  ideas,  248-249 
Tucker,  Judith,  206 

VALLifeRE,  Madame  de  la,  38,  39 
Van  Dyck,  Sir  Anthony,  175 
Voltaire,  49,  50,  53 

Wales,    Prince     of    (afterwards 

George  IV.),  74,  102 
Wales,  Princess  Dowager  of,  41, 

58 
Walpole,  Horace,  4,  g,  10,  11,  12, 
14,  15,  17,  18,  19,  20,  23,  24,  25, 

27.  30,  3I'  32,  34.  35.  37.  39.  40. 
41,  42,  43,  46,  47,  49,  50,  51,  53, 
54.  55.  56.  57.  59.  61,  64,  65,  66, 
67,  68,  69,  70,  71,  75,  76,  128  ; 
Walpolc's  letters  to  Lady  Mary 
Coke,  19,  23,  25-26,  27-30,  30- 
31.   32-33.  35-37.  37-39.   39-4", 


41-42,  43-44.  49-50.  50-51,  51-53, 

54-55. 56-57.  58-59.  59-60,  61-63 ; 

his  verses  to  Lady  Mary  Coke, 

19,  31,  32,  43 
Warburton,     Jane,     see     Argyll, 

Jane,  Duchess  of. 
Washington,  George,  179 
Watts-Dunton,  Theodore,  169 
Webster,  Sir  Godfrey,  173,  174 
Weismann,  August,  249 
Weyer,  M.  Van  de,  177,  182,  183 
Weymouth,      Thomas       Thynne, 

Viscount,  166,  167 
Whately,  Archbishop,  203 
Whiston,  Joseph,  250 
White,  Rev.  Gilbert,  79 
Whitefield,  George,  160,  209 
Wilkes,  John,  52 
Wilkie,  Sir  David,  196 
William  HI.,  75,  175 
Wordsworth,  William,  195 

Yarmouth,  Lady,  22,  23,  37 
York,  H.R.H.  Duke  of,  18,  44,  45, 
46,  47.  65 


BRADBURY,    AGNEW     &   CO.    LD.,    PRINTERS,   LONDON    AND   TONBRIDGE. 


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